#King Aelle as a family man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

literaryuppsala · 2 years

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You could take a shot where Ragnar makes a deal with Ecbert so that in the future his children will marry for peace. And the reader is the daughter who should marry Ubbe or Bjorn but as they are both married (margrethe and torvi) it was left to Hvitserk who is annoyed by having to marry because he likes margrethe, but after the arrival of the princess he changes his mind… happy final and smut pls

It took me so long to finish this, I am so sorry. I just finished and wanted to post as soon as possible, so If there's any mistake let me know. I had so much fun while writing It, thank you for your ask. I hope this is just as good as you imagined in your head, hope you like It as much as I did.

Maybe I wrote a Part II for this one

hell was the journey (but it brought me heaven)

You never dared to dream of a marriage out of love, that wasn’t allowed for people like you, you knew what was expected from you. Since you got old enough to understand your place in this world, you always knew you had a duty, a hard but rewarding duty. At least that’s what your father told you, you’d feel rewarded as soon as you fulfilled your duty.

The morning you left Wessex, King Ecbert held your hand and told you the future of all England depended on you, depended on you marrying a man you never met in your life but was destined to since the day you were born.

Years before you sailed, Ragnar set foot at the beach in Lindisfarne and this decided the course of your future. After years of battle, King Aelle from Northumbria and Ecbert from Wessex finally reached a common ground with the vikings: they wanted land and they could have It, If they promised not to raid ever again and this pact would be sealed by marriage, a son of Ragnar should marry a daughter of one of the kings.

Nothing happened for years until Ragnar returned to Wessex, years later, with two of his sons. Your father gave in completely, you were a baby back then and knew nothing about pacts, saxons and vikings, either way your life was completely changed by them.

After sailing for a few days, you arrived in Norway, met by bad weather and curious gazes from the pier. Your ship docked, more people gathered around and someone you imagined was the king walked firmly towards you, followed by more of them.

“Princess.” He announced, his voice was a loud howl that startled you a bit. “Welcome to Kattegat.”

“Thank you, my lord.” You murmured, whispering your words under your breath. “It’s an honor.”

“I’m Bjorn. Come with me.”

They walked you through the city, suspicious looks burned holes on your skin why you crossed the path. As soon as you arrived at their great hall, a feast awaited you, a big table was sat in the middle, filled with food and ale. Everyone was laughing and talking until Bjorn showed up with you on his tracks. Gazes crossing his body like It wasn’t even there to find your small figure hiding on his back.

“This is for you.” He whispered, offering you his hand, which you accepted shyly. “We were all waiting for you.” He led you to the table, offering you a seat.

“You are even more beautiful than I thought.” A beautiful woman caught your attention, she was sitting right across from you.

“Thank you.” You nodded.

Bjorn started to introduce his family, pointing to the people gathered around the table and giving their faces a name you would have a problem repeating. He was the king, you noticed that, people seemed to respect him, he had a lot of brothers they couldn’t be all sons of Ragnar, you thought to yourself. Turns out they were, and that beautiful woman, she was named Aslaug, was his wife, their mother. You learned three of them were already married, Bjorn, the oldest, was married to a woman named Torvi, she had a kind smile towards you. The second one, a man named Ubbe, was married to a woman named Margrethe, someone who didn’t seem as friendly as the others. And the last one, Ivar, was married to Freydis.

“And this one is my brother Hvitserk.” Bjorn announced proudly, hugging him by his shoulders and slapping at his chest. “Your future husband.”

He smiled at you, smirked actually, his lips slightly curled up as he looked down at you. He was handsome, you thought. Long braided hair falling on his shoulders, a beautiful pair of green eyes sparkling on his face, his smirk sending shivers down your spine.

“It’s an honor, Lord Hvitserk.”

Hvitserk bowed, they all laughed and you frowned, but didn’t say anything. The feast kept going, they started to talk about your future wedding, about all the things you must learn and do before the ceremony and how you and Hvitserk couldn’t be together during this period. You didn’t think much of It since there wouldn’t be much of a talk between the two of you.

As the days passed, you got to know more of them, they welcomed you into their space and happily taught you everything they thought you needed to learn, all the fantastic stories you would go to bed to think about. During this time, you grew closer to the women of the family, their mother, Aslaug, was gentle and cared about your well being, always checking If you were feeding and sleeping well. Torvi became your favorite storyteller, she would talk to you about traditions and their past, and was always kind to you. Freydis always made sure your hair was beautifully braided, tamed into intricate patterns. Only one of them always kept her distance from you, not really talking or even acknowledging your presence.

“Who is she?” You asked once, Freydis was sitting behind you and she sighed, her breath slightly touching your shoulders.

“Margrethe.” She answered angrily. “She’s Ubbe’s wife.”

“She doesn’t like me.” You murmured.

“She only likes the sons.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They say she slept with all of them before she married Ubbe. She wanted them all to herself.”

“Hvitserk…” You whispered under your breath.

“Soon you’ll be his wife.” She moved to your front, blocking Margrethe’s vision. “He will only have eyes for you.”

“Does he have eyes for her now?”

She didn’t answer, she didn’t have to, you saw it in her face, something was going on between them. That realization made you extremely sad. You didn’t think he would have been waiting for you, but never imagined you would have to battle for a place you always thought belonged to you. The way Margrethe acted around you was everything you needed to know about her relationship with Hvitserk.

That night, as you laid back on the bed, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep, thinking about Margrethe and Hvitserk and what you were going to do now, you hated the feeling that you were, somehow, the intruder. You laid there, awake, staring at the ceiling and dealing with the deadly silence until It was bothered by a few muffled sounds.

Frowning in the dark you mentally debated If you should go check it or not and after the sounds got heavier, whispers and sighs, soft words that didn’t seem for your ears, you swallowed hard, your mind lost the control over your body and you saw yourself getting up and slowly walking towards the door, leaning against the wood and trying to listen.

When you finally decided to leave the room and opened the door, the noise got louder. The small corridor was poorly lit by some torches stuck in the walls, the orange light flickered in the dark, creating dancing shadows on your face as you slowly walked towards the noise. Your room stayed in the back of the great hall, the only thing separating the corridor and the front of the hall was a thin fabric curtain that you softly moved away so you could pry on what was happening.

You hid against the wall and looked through the thin material, eyes widened at the scene unfolding before your eyes, utterly shocked. Margrethe was trapped between two bulky men, one of them being her husband, Ubbe and the other one you couldn’t see, he had his back towards you. Her eyes were closed, her lips were parted, she moaned softly while they both moved obscenely against her body.

You couldn’t believe it, even though you heard about their different manners, you didn’t expect that. She tried so hard to hug both of them, but that didn’t seem possible while Ubbe grabbed her hips from behind and the other man spreaded kisses all over her chest, kneading at her breasts. You blinked in shock, but weren't able to stop looking, too entranced by them.

“Too much…”

You heard when she moaned softly, her lips moving slowly while she carefully opened her eyes, a different gray tone mixed with green. She tried to focus on something until she found yours, widened, looking at her. She mumbled something and the man in front of her finally looked over his shoulders, a loud gasp left your throat when you noticed he was your future husband. You quickly covered your mouth and when they all looked towards the tiny door frame where you were, you moved fast trying to hide. Everything went quiet again and you ran back to your room, locking yourself inside, hands on your chest while you walked backwards into the room until your knees met the edge of the bed and you fell sitting.

Timid knocks on your door warned you they followed you, three voices whispered exasperated outside your room, but you pretended not to hear, stayed inside, in silence, waiting until they left, something that happened quicker than you thought. So you sat in your bed for hours, waiting for the sun to rise and when its first rays creeped through the cracks of the window, the maids you had taken there with you, finally entered your room.

“You didn’t sleep, my lady.” One of them whispered.

“Is it that obvious?” You asked back with sarcasm.

They helped you to get dressed, a beautiful red gown with long sleeves to help you face the cold in Kattegat and probably the wrath of the vikings, but you didn’t mind, you had made your decision. You left your bedroom with your maids leading you towards the great hall, the same corridor, the same door frame, you felt chills down your spine. The only table was already occupied and the first pair of eyes to meet yours, was Hvitserk’s, he blinked quickly as you walked firmly towards the head of the table, his brother Bjorn. They all looked at you at some point, the conversation stopped and you sighed before starting to talk.

“We should talk.” You announced firmly, looking at them from where you were.

“Shouldn’t we eat first?” Bjorn asked, offering you a place at the table, but you rejected.

“I am not hungry.” You answered. “The sooner we end this conversation, the sooner I’ll leave Kattegat.”

“What?” He gasped, getting up with a jolt. You startled, taking back a step or two.

“I guess my presence here is useless.” You started. “I don’t think any of us want this thing to happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Bjorn insisted.

“I don’t know what is going on here, but I don’t think Lord Hvitserk wants to marry me. And I know we all have an agreement, but after so much time, we can change things.” You continued. “We can make the decisions for ourselves, you could make the decision of not raiding again in England, and we can make the decision of keeping your settlements safe. It’s not necessary to go through something none of us desire.”

“I don’t think you understand this, princess.” Bjorn tried, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at you, his expression smug and arrogant.

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.” You hissed.

“I am not. But this thing you’re suggesting it’s beyond stupid, It’s suicidal.”

Hvitserk, who was silent the whole time, finally got up, held Bjorn’s arm, stopping him in his tracks before he said anything else.

“I guess It’s time for us to talk, princess.” He told you, a little too harshly.

“I guess It’s late, lord Hvitserk.” You hissed more sharply than you intended.

“What is going on?” Bjorn tried again, his eyes on his little brother.

“Let’s talk in private, princess.” Hvitserk insisted, ignoring the confused looks from his family.

“I will do no such thing! You’re not my husband, I can’t be alone in private with you!” You replied offended.

“Then we can discuss what happened last night here, in front of everyone.” He smirked and your cheeks flushed almost immediately, your hands went to the sides of your face trying to cover up your embarrassment while you blinked in utter shock. “It’s your choice.”

“Not in chambers.” You warned before walking away without looking back.

You didn’t see, but felt him following your steps outside the great hall. You walked fast, but Hvitserk reached you, held your arm and stopped you both.

“We’ll have more privacy on the beach.”

“I thought you didn’t need privacy, my lord.” You teased.

“I do need actually, you’re just nosy.” He teased back.

“How dare you?!” You raised your hand ready to slap him in the face, but he held It in the air, before It could reach him.

“Lurking in the shadows, watching people while they’re distracted.” He pulled you in, your faces so close you felt his breath fanning on your cheeks.

“I wasn’t lurking!” You growled, pulling your arm out of his grasp. “You were out doors, you didn’t seem very preoccupied with that last night.”

“You remember last night very clearly.”

“I remember how disgusted I felt.”

He stopped, didn’t have any answer for that and you were so angry with him you could scream, you felt betrayed, even though he wasn’t your husband yet, you felt it either way.

“Do you love her?” You asked all of a sudden and he didn’t answer that either.

“Why are you asking me this?” He frowned.

“I don’t want to marry a man who can not love me.” You sighed. “I know we don’t love each other now, but I always thought that whenever I married someone… Maybe… With time… That can not happen If you already love someone else.”

“I… I don’t know…” He answered honestly and you smiled to yourself.

“You always know these types of things. You just don’t want to tell me.” You finally looked at him. “How do you do this? How can you share?”

“I guess a little is better than nothing.”

“Honestly, I don’t want to do this.” You murmured.

You left him there and he didn’t try to stop you. After that you just locked yourself up in your room, well not yours, the room they settled for you and felt like an outsider again. People knocked on your door, your maids, Bjorn, Torvi and Freydis, even Aslaug made her attempt to talk to you, but you didn’t want to see anyone, not in that moment at least.

“What happened?” Bjorn asked angrily, looking at an equally nervous Hvitserk, who didn’t answer.

“She saw us last night.” Ubbe was the one to clarify things. “With Margrethe.”

“What??” He asked again, this time in shock and Ubbe just shrugged.

“This is low.” Ivar said, looking at the food in front of him. “Even for you, brother.” He completed, pointing at Hvitserk.

“Not as low as you.” Hvitserk answered, receiving a bunch of peas on his face thrown by Ivar.

“Stop tormenting your brother. This is serious.” Aslaug scolded. “How could you do this?”

“I didn’t think she was going to see It.” Hvitserk answered.

“She’s just like Ivar.” Sigurd teased.

“At least I'm not a christian and not his future wife.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bjorn growled loudly, looking angrily at Hvitserk. “You better fix this, because if she leaves, you can forget the last few years of peace.”

“I know brother, you don’t have to remind me.”

“Then why did you fuck Margrethe in the middle of the great hall?”

“I was drunk.”

“Great explanation brother, why don’t you tell her this?” Ivar teased again.

“Ivar, don't make things worse.” Aslaug scolded once again.

The conversation went on for some time, with Hvitserk dealing with his whole family talking about his sex life, but he wasn’t really listening, your voice in his head asking him If he loved Margrethe and his lack of response, he didn’t know that, love was such a strong word for whatever happened between himself and his brother’s wife. He liked her, liked to have sex with her, he felt betrayed when she accepted to marry Ubbe, but he didn’t know If he loved her. And while those thoughts circulated inside his mouth, you were someone he felt he could love someday, someone with whom he could create a family of his own.

He marched to your room, thought about all the things he could say to you and softly knocked on your door. You didn’t answer. He insisted. This went on for a few minutes until he finally heard a few noises coming from inside, next thing was the door opening and revealing your tired shape.

“Would you forgive me?” He asked and you blinked. “Ever?”

You sighed. “Lord Hvitserk.”

He took your hand to his mouth. “It won’t happen again.” He mumbled against your skin and kissed your knuckles. “I can promise you that, If you forgive me, It won’t happen again.”

“You promise?”

That seemed a childish thing to do, asking for a promise, but that’s what you needed and you didn’t even know If you could ever trust him close to that woman, but something inside you turned your confidence into melting butter as soon as his skin touched yours, he had something you couldn’t explain, something that entranced you.

“I promise.”

After the talk, the marriage preparations were rushed, everybody feared Hvitserk could mess up again since Margrethe wouldn’t leave him alone. You could sense her circling him like a vulture, everytime you were together she would sneak around, ask for his help or something, he would smile and politely deny her and she would insist, until he’d give up and go with her, that was the worst thing about the time before the wedding.

Once the day came, all of the women in the family showed up in your room to help prepare you, your maids didn’t have much to do. Torvi brought a beautiful white gown for you, long sleeved with golden embroidment, you were mesmerized. They took you out to the river, helped you wash yourself, dressed you and braided your hair, they even put a flower crown over your head, you felt beautiful.

The ceremony wasn’t really easy for you since you weren’t totally understanding what was happening, but once the few droplets of blood touched your face, you knew It was done. You learned this that week. Hvitserk smiled and gave you a tender kiss on your forehead, another one on your cheek and finally touched your lips softly, your cheeks flushed immediately and you smiled shyly.

A feast was thrown, with lots of ale and food, people gathered around the great hall laughing and screaming with each other. Hvitserk was the happiest you ever saw him since you first met and you were letting yourself think that was because of you.

“Sigurd, now you’re the only one left.” Bjorn teased.

“I have a lot of women, brother.” He teased back, making Ivar laugh on his cup, almost gagging with liquid.

“You??? Who would want to sleep with you???” He laughed.

“Definitely more than the ones who want to sleep with you.” Sigurd rolled his eyes.

“He already has one, Sigurd.” Freydis growled, walking towards Ivar and sitting on his lap. “He doesn’t need anyone else.” Ivar smiled proudly, kissing her on the cheek.

“Sigurd, you’ll have to settle one day.” Aslaug started. “Have a family, have children. I can’t wait to see this place filled with your children.”

“I can arrange that. Don’t need to settle to bring children into this world.” He insisted, making his mother roll her eyes in anger.

“You should be content with just one woman, like your brothers.” She insisted.

“I don’t think Hvitserk can do that.” Margrethe talked for the first time during the whole feast. “He’s too insatiable, too greedy.”

The smile that was on your face slowly faded, everyone stayed in silence and eventually looked at you. You felt embarrassed, but didn’t answer, nor looked at her, you drank from your cup and stared blankly into an invisible point in front of you until Hvitserk’s beautiful emeralds showed up, a tiny smirk curling his lips up before he kissed you again, taking you by surprise. He tasted like ale and meat, strangely pleasant on your tongue when you felt It against his, both of his hands on the sides of your face for a quick moment, a feverish but quick moment.

“I already found the one who can satiate me.”

You blushed, but pride filled your tummy. Your hand met his cheek and silently thanked him for his kind gesture. After that the conversation restarted, what Margrethe said completely forgotten once Ivar and Sigurd got into another one of their fights, but Hvitserk’s eyes were still on you, he was nuzzling into your hand and you were thankful, relieved, maybe this whole thing was right after all.

By the end of the night, they took your husband by his legs and put him on their shoulders, led him to his house while your maids and the girls took you by the hand and followed. The screaming and the laughing stayed for long until they took you to the bedroom and Hvitserk kicked them out very quickly, until you were both alone.

He touched your shoulders, then your neck, lastly your cheeks.

“We don’t have to do anything.”

“It’s alright.”

“So you want to?”

You nodded.

He kissed you again. Slow. His lips softly touching yours while he caressed your cheeks with his thumbs. You shivered, feeling his tongue slowly entering your mouth and massaging yours, the taste of ale was so strong It made you slightly dizzy. You pawed at his tunic, pushing the fabric with your fingers and pulling his body in until his chest pressed against yours.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered against your mouth. “So, so beautiful…” He took his kisses down your face, nipped at your jaw before he started pressing insistent kisses on your throat.

His hands met the straps of your bodice and started to untie until the leather garment fell on the ground around your feet. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in, making you stay on your tiptoes and hug his neck, fingers dipped in his braids.

“Come to bed.” He whispered again, holding your hand and taking you.

Carefully, Hvitserk sat you on the bed, he kissed your forehead before taking off his tunic. That was the first time you ever saw a man half naked, your cheeks flushed and you moved your gaze away from his body. Quickly, he grabbed your hands, putting them on his own abdomen. The rigid muscles tensed under your palm and you bit your lower lip, with his thumb he pulled your lip out of the grip of your teeth, slowly caressing the trembling flesh.

He softly kneeled in front of you, you felt his hands on your legs, first on your calves, then on your knees and up your thighs, his touch raised goosebumps on your heated skin, he smirked when felt you trembling. Slowly, he raised one of your legs and started spreading kisses while sliding up the hem of the dress. His mouth was sinful, wet and soft, he left a trail of saliva behind. He did the same with both of your legs until you were leaned back on your elbows and your gown was crumpled on the middle of your thighs. When his kisses went up a little further, you jolted, shooting up into a sitting position and touching his chest, slightly pushing him away.

“We don’t have to do anything.” He repeated, his hand covering the one you had on his chest.

“Just… Just… Be gentle.” You pleaded, utter embarrassment on your face.

He nodded and got up, taking you with him. His hands met your hips and took the fabric of your gown, carefully he pushed It up, sliding it off of your body leaving you only on your white chemise. Hvitserk then took you on his arms, bride style, laying you down on the bed, your head softly touching the pillows. Your hands met the sides of your face while he laid down on top of you, his hips looking for home between your legs which you allowed, opening up to accommodate him.

Hvitserk then lowered his head, his lips choosing a place on your neck to nip on, he pulled up the sheer fabric of your chemise over your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. The sensitive skin of your nipple prickled even before he did anything. Lowering his head even more, your husband took one nipple in his mouth and you gasped at the new sensation, wet and warm. You fisted the sheets, eyes immediately closed while you whimpered under his ministrations.

“I can’t believe you’re mine.” He murmured after releasing one nipple with a soft pop. “All mine.” He hissed before taking the other nipple into his mouth too.

He lowered his kisses, finding the soft skin of your tummy, licking and sucking, leaving a trail of light red marks. He traced the curve of your belly button with the tip of his tongue before licking down your belly.

“W-What are you doing??” You asked when you saw where he was going, he just smirked, kept licking down your curls until he brushed against your clit and you shivered. “Serk…” You breathed the nickname you heard so many times, so easily It seemed was made for your mouth.

His eyes were dark, nothing of the beautiful emeralds you were growing used to, they had a dark shade of gray while he looked at you. He spread your legs even more, using his shoulders as support as he lapped up your folds, slowly savoring you like the sweetest wine. His tongue was soft and warm, your folds were dripping into his mouth, making him moan softly, humming in satisfaction.

You threw your head back and grabbed the sheets, your toes curled and you wined loud. You never felt that way before, your body was completely out of your control and under his power, the kind of feeling you've never experienced. He kept licking through your slit until you felt his tongue inside of you and you whimpered, a little uncomfortable. He then used his free hand to gently massage your clit, distracting you almost immediately, he buried almost his entire face between your legs as his lips curled around your clit and sucked, you started seeing white spots behind your eyelids, a tight coil forming on your belly when while your hips started to move under their own accord against his mouth. He hummed again, like he was happy you were doing that.

“Serk…” You breathed out, feeling hot and bothered as never before, like you were about to explode. You sequenced his name and your legs trembled around his head, your body went rigid and you moaned long and loud, a relaxing sensation taking over your body. He kept licking on you as you experienced the twitching and the aftershocks of the first orgasm of your life, he only stopped when you squirmed away.

When he raised his head, his mouth was wet with your slick and he had a silly smirk on his face as he climbed up on you and kissed you, making you taste your own juices on your tongue. He was quick to discard his own trousers, all while squirming to stay in between your legs again, you hugged his neck and blinked nervously.

“We don’t-” He started but you touched his lips with your fingertips.

“It’s alright.” You assured him and he nodded.

He grabbed his cock between your bodies and lined the tip with your wet folds, rubbing the head against your clit, making you shudder. He kissed you again and pushed his tip inside you, the stretch burned your walls that fluttered around him, he growled against your mouth, completely immobile.

“Can I move?” He asked you, a pained grunt, like he was using all his strength to stay still. His arms supporting his weight on each side of your head started to shake and you breathed heavily, nodding the permission he asked for.

You cried out in pain when slid a little more inside, his lips brushing against yours as he stopped again, but you pressed your fingers on his nape, a silent consent for him to keep going, he looked at you with true concern, his eyes glossy as he slowly entered you until he bottomed out completely and you mewled loudly, closing your eyes.

Hvitserk spread kisses all over your face, wetting his lips with the insistent tears falling down your cheeks, he burned inside you like wildfire, the stretch was almost unbearable.

“Sweetheart… I’m going to pull out…” He hissed, seeing how painful this was for you.

“No… Just… Give me a minute…” You breathed out, opening your eyes to look at him. “Would you… Would you kiss me, please?” You pleaded with hooded eyes.

“Of course.” He answered softly, touching your lips with his feverishly, it’s messier than the other kisses he gave you, sloppier, his teeth brushing against your lips and his tongue massaging yours obscenely, within minutes you’re deep into his spell again, trembling hands on his neck, tugging at his hair and slightly untying his braids.

Noticing you’re distracted, he moved, pulling out a little and slowly coming back, you mewled into his mouth, your walls fluttering around him but he doesn’t know If it’s because of the pain or pleasure. So he pulled away from your lips, smiling a little when you followed blindly reaching for his mouth, moving under him and pulling him in a little more. He grunted under his breath, sighing heavily while trying not to think about the way your walls feel around him.

Suddenly his forehead is against your lips, his eyes are closed, all of the veins on his arms are visible and puffed, you touched his biceps and he shuddered on top of you. Pride filled your heart knowing you were the one doing this to him, you wanted to do more so you moved your hips up, the burn inside you reduced a bit and you moved again, Hvitserk moaned.

“Sweetheart… Don’t do this.” He pleaded, a breathed beg, his breathing fanning against your chest. A groan left his lips and you felt his cock twitching inside you, the foreign feeling a little overwhelming but not causing any discomfort.

“Please move.” You hissed and he immediately obeyed, like his body was just waiting another sign of consentment. He pulled out a little and slid right back in, you felt the burn and mewled. “Keep moving.” You pleaded again and he growled, doing exactly what you asked.

Hvitserk slowly moved inside you, trying his best not to hurt you, but he never felt that way before, buried inside you felt better than anything he ever felt, It truly felt like Valhala and you looked like a Goddess, blissed out under him, taking all of him so well. He wanted you to feel just as good as he felt, he dived his hand between your bodies and gently touched your clit, you shuddered, that touch being the first real pleasure you felt since he slipped inside you.

He kept massaging your puffy clit, looking at your parted lips as he slightly changed the angle of his hips, searching for that spot inside you. You mewled when he found, fluttering at the new position, widening your eyes and staring at him when you felt that same tingle from before, he smiled when he noticed. He kept thrusting into you, always searching for that spot, always pressing on your clit, but the way you gripped him, he wouldn’t last long.

When he picked up his pace, you felt the burn again, but Hvitserk was deep into his pleasure, he needed to finish, so you hugged him, close, trying not to focus on anything but the gentle tugs on your clit. However, he knew he needed to be faster, so he did, a few more thrusts and he was gone, his hips slapping up yours sloppily quick until he stopped completely and you felt the twitch of his cock, the warmth of his spend inside you and the rough noises coming from his throat.

“I’m sorry.” He pleaded before raising his head up to look at you. Your hands met the side of his face and you smiled tiredly at him. “It won’t hurt this much next time.”

“I know.”

Quickly, Hvitserk moved, getting up from the bed he walked out of the room and came back with a bowl full of water and a clean towel. You watched as he cleaned between your legs with the wet cloth, gently washing away the pink stains on the soft skin of your thighs. When he was done, he put the bowl on the ground and moved to lay down by your side, pulling you in so you could lay on his chest, one of his hands softly touching your hair while the other grabbed your own, tangled your fingers and pulled it towards his lips, he started spreading kisses on your knuckles.

“Will you make me happy, Hvitserk?” You asked all of a sudden.

“That’s the only thing I can do from now on.” ***

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

Text

Madness

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Blaeja

Summary: “I was wondering if I could request an imagine where the reader is a princess and Ivar travels to England with his brothers & thinks the princess is beautiful but he gets teased by Sigurd and his brothers but she can understand their language and decides to flirt with him in front of everyone?”

So I made her Kwenthrith’s daughter because why the fuck not, and Blaeja (Aelle’s daughter) is on this cause again, why the fuck not. Also the Reader might be a tad insane, but at this rate all my Reader characters are idk what to tell u

Word Count: 4.7k (I’m sorry lol)

Warnings: Mentions of rape and child abuse, mentions and allusions to violence and death, my horrible writing

A/N: Idk how I feel about this, I hope I don’t dissapoint the anon that requested it lol. Hope you enjoy, thank you for reading, and ily! <3

Also, I kinda went a lil overboard :/

The handmaid is fixing the coronet over your head when you hear the doors to your rooms open, so she turns to demand propriety from whoever entered unannounced, but seeing Aelle’s daughter with a devilish smile on her lips stops her on her tracks.

“Your Grace.” The woman bows gracefully, and steps back, letting Blaeja take her place.

“Are you ready?” The girl whispers to you, adept hand working at the tresses of your hair to make sure it is carefully hidden under your veil that showcases the delicate circlet on your head.

“You are the one that will be sent off to be married, my friend,” You remind her, chuckling, “To one of those…”

“Lord Sigurd is not that bad,” She interrupts, what for a second sounds like girlish infatuation on her tone. You are opening your mouth to quip on how she refers to one of those brutes as a ‘Lord’ but she clears her throat, and continues, “He played some music for me, the other day.”

“You have nothing to fear then,” You mock with a roll of your eyes, “Maybe he also played music for your father before they executed him, made all of it a much more lovely affair.”

Blaeja tugs at your hair in warning, and you steal a glance at the handmaid that looks carefully at the floor. As if she needed eyes to hear you, as if you didn’t know how she’ll gossip about this with the others.

“Careful, or I’ll ask that you come with me,” She laughs, “I’ll have you sold for two gold coins.”

“You are talking to the heiress to a broken and war-torn kingdom, Lady Blaeja, you better remember that!” You tell her in jest, and she laughs, with that laugh you two share, that laugh born out of despair and loss and uncertainty.

“How could I? Judith never lets me forget what a might Mercia continues to be.” She replies with no little disdain in her tone. After a breath of hesitation, she orders with curt words for the servants to leave you two alone, and once the doors close, the Princess of Northumbria kneels in front of you where you sit, grabbing your hands tightly on her own.

“You are scaring me.”

“There’s no reason to fear,” She tells you even as tears fill her eyes. With a tremulous smile, she whispers, “I heard my sister talking with her husband, about you.”

“Me?”

“Alfred would benefit greatly from having a Mercian Princess as wife,” She states, and though she smiles you feel only cold settling over your heart, dread. “With your mother dead…”

“Dead when King Ecbert, blessed be his memory, took control over Mercia, Blaeja! They already own my kingdom.” You remind her lowly, leaning down so your faces are closer to each other, but this doesn’t dim her smile.

Your heart aches at the reminder of your mother, for her, in all her sins and her scars, was the only family you ever had. The only protection you had, in that palace filled with monsters.

If you think about it, if you sit surrounded by all your sins and your mistakes and your faults and think about it, you know it was the sight of her shaking hands as she looked at them expecting to see blood and told you of the death of her brother that made you stop having faith in your God.

It wasn’t the death of a would-be king at the hands of his sister what made you realize the bishops and priests and deacons and saints were all full of lies, no. It was the emptiness in her gaze as she spoke of walking out of that room a Queen and realizing it wasn’t enough to make up for the pain he -the last remaining alive in the long line of monsters that made up your family- caused her.

It was the hoarse voice of the proud and ruthless Queen of Mercia telling you of the barbarity that took place right under her father’s willfully ignorant gaze, it was the shaking hands that clasped your own and begged for forgiveness that she didn’t need to ask for, it was the severed heads brought in by the Vikings that weren’t enough to heal her, it was the realization God, if he was ever there, looked away most of her life.

You shake those thoughts off, and focus on the Princess before you that smiles in a mix of joy for your fate and bitterness for hers.

With shaky breaths, you insist, “What on earth are you talking about?”

“They would have Mercian blood on their lineage, it would strengthen their claim.” She states, and the disgust it fills you with makes you feel shame. You should be ecstatic at the chance of becoming Queen, at the prospect giving Wessex strong sons to prepare for ruling and beautiful daughters to…to exchange like broodmares, like Blaeja, given to a Viking of all men, breakable daughters to fail to protect, like Kwenthrith, raped by her own brother and uncle.

You remember your mother’s pain. You remember her whispers about the court being filled with snakes, you remember her stories about the women with swords and loud voices.

And you remember King Ecbert’s lessons. You remember his tales about the land where his Ragnar Lothbrok came from, you remember his bitterness at the strange land that captured the heart of a man of God such as Athelstan.

You meet her brown eyes, and force a smile on your lips, because may the earth part underneath your feet and drag you down, you will not wed Alfred.

____

They introduce you to the sons of Ragnar, and you will admit, Blaeja looks positively smitten by the easy smile the blond man gives her in greeting. Lovely.

Judith makes a point of having you be sitting next to Alfred who, blessed be his soul, attempts to strike conversation with you only to be stopped by his own shyness.

You still offer him a few courteous smiles, and thank his kindness when he offers it so. When the Vikings talk amongst each other, mostly about the strange food and customs, you notice the King looks at you to gauge your expression, as if he knows you also know their tongue.

You worry about how much King Ecbert shared with him for a moment, but say nothing.

“So, the one that walked in with your bride,” One of the sons of Ragnar starts, and though you decide to pay attention you keep your gaze on your food and the entertainment going on around you, offering one of the performers a small smile. “Who is she?”

“Princess of Mercia, I think. The crazy queen father fought for with Uncle Rollo and the others, that’s her daughter.” A man with hair that you thought first was short but realized later falls down his back in a thick braid, his blond beard unkept, but his eyes those of an experienced man as they look over the room.

“Let’s hope beauty is not all she shares with that crazy bitch, huh? I would love to fuck a Saxon princess again.” Mocks a man you weren’t introduced to, so not a son of Ragnar, with ink on his face and long dark hair.

You realize too late you have lifted your gaze and set your eyes on him, what is sure to be affront and embarrassment showing on your face.

You lower your eyes again to the table before you, clenching your hands into fists on your lap, but you feel like someone is looking at you, and from the other end of the table, when you peek carefully, you catch the eyes of the one they introduced but whose name you can’t remember, the one with short dark hair, the one whose legs seem to be broken.

He looks at you with a silver of surprise, but there’s something else there. Regardless, you know he knows, and it makes fear settle on your stomach like acid. You wonder if this is what Burgred felt when he was poisoned.

“You’ve been staring at her all night, Ivar,” Blaeja’s betrothed starts, voice sickly mocking. “Are you hoping she’ll look back? Take your cripple ass to her bed?”

“Sigurd…” One of the elder brothers grumbles, clearly tired of it all.

“I’m just saying, he’d have more luck forcing a thrall to touch him than hoping a free woman will.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you, brother? Fucking your slave so she can’t even say no.”

“Who out of the two of us will bed a princess, hmm? It surely isn’t the cripple that can’t even please a slave right, is it?”

You and Alfred exchange a look, no longer pretending either of you don’t understand, as the youngest, Ivar, snarls some threat at his brother, voice and temper rising alike.

Refusing to be spoken of like some sort of cunt with a crown, you speak up, though your gaze remains on your plate.

“Princess Blaeja asks you to play that awful lute to keep your paws off her, so I fear that arrogance is unfounded, my Prince.”

Alfred chokes on his drink as he tries covering a startled laugh with a cough, and you feel wide eyes from the end of the table where the Vikings seat settle on you.

“What did you say?” One of the men asks slowly, and with the madness your mother left you with, you lift your gaze and meet the eyes of the man you recognize as Bjorn Ironside.

“My mother wasn’t crazy,” Is all you reply with gritted teeth, before turning to the blonde that Blaeja is to marry. You don’t know what it is that makes you open your mouth again, but you do, “And I was indeed looking at your brother. I feel for you deeply, my Prince, if you can’t recognize want in a woman’s gaze.”

Alfred clears his throat, what you could swear is a smile -the youthful smile of a boy witnessing chaos- shyly settling on his lips, and stands up to propose a toast and dissipate the atmosphere.

“With this being one of the last nights our dear Blaeja, daughter of the late King Aelle, blessed be his soul, spends with us, I-…”

You don’t listen anymore, taking a sip from your wine and catching over the rim of your goblet the eyes of the youngest son of Ragnar -Ivar, you remind yourself- on you, studying you with a mix of mistrust and curiosity.

You keep your gaze on his, and as you lower your cup from your lips, you offer a smile. His own lips tremble in what was sure to be an instinctual reply with a smile of his own, before he schools his features.

Regardless, he takes his eyes off yours and in his whole posture embarrassment is written. Managing to fluster a Viking of all men fills you with a thrill, a heat, like no other.

The men toast and you gesture your goodbyes as the dinner is dispersed. Before you can make it out the door, Blaeja stops you with a hand on your arm.

“What did y-…do you speak their tongue?”

“I do. King Ecbert taught me a lot before he died,” You state, before frowning in confusion and thoughtfulness, “Before he died at the hands of these men…Blaeja, my friend, don’t you ever stop and think about how strange it all has become?”

Blaeja only narrows her eyes with a growing exasperated smile on her lips.

“I care about what you said to my future husband.”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” You pat her cheek in friendly jest, making her roll her eyes. After a moment of consideration, you tell her, “Though he may not play his lute as often anymore, I fear.”

____

You wait impatiently by the window to your room, wondering over and over if this is the wrong choice, if you are making the worst mistake possible, if you are walking into the wolf’s den.

Before you can think yourself out of this, Blaeja, with her head covered by a dark cloak, makes her way into your room.

“I didn’t think your betrothed would agree.” Is all you state, dryly, as she motions for you to get your own cloak.

“Oh, I can assure you Prince Sigurd despises you, but luckily, he seems to adore me. Go, and don’t make me regret this.”

With a light laugh you kiss her cheek and dart out of the room, ready to follow the familiar path to where you asked Prince Sigurd to arrange a meeting between his brother and you.

“So it is you.” He says, dragging himself up a couch in front of yours. You clasp your hands together to keep them from trembling, and try to remember all the logic, all the strategy, you’ve put behind this stupid plan of yours.

“I told them to let you know.” You reply curtly, but the Prince shrugs.

“Sigurd could be mocking me. Make the cripple think he is meeting with the Princess?” He shrugs, but it is not nonchalant in the slightest. In all of his fame and vitriol, you notice, now only remains a man uncertain, unmoored, braced for rejection or mocking like you’ve scarcely seen before. The knowledge that you, or the combination of you and his older brother, seem to be a vulnerable point for him is a knowledge you don’t truly know what to do with. You say nothing in response, and with a movement of his head, after settling in his seat, he insists, “Why did you want to meet with me?”

“You norsemen have a reputation,” You start carefully, plucking at a lose string on the sleeve of your dress. “And the crown needs the allegiance Blaeja’s marriage with your brother gives them, so no mat-…”

“I don’t like your roundabout ways,” He states brusquely, and it stops you on your tracks, your eyes wide and lips parted as you stare at the Prince. He gestures with one hand, a frown starting to mar his face, “Just say what you want, Princess.”

“I want you to take me with you back to wherever it is you come from. I want them to believe I’ve been stolen.”

The Prince looks at you like you have grown a second head, and to be quite frank, once the words have left your lips you realize you might as well have. This is foolish, and dangerous, and...crazy.

That’s what they called your mother, not only these norsemen but all of them. Because she admitted what many didn’t dare to: that if she had been born with a cock they all would have bowed and given her the crown she deserved, that the earth would have been easier to walk on.

You refuse to think madness is a bad trait.

You don’t have to ponder whether the Viking will see it as such, for you notice you have piqued his interest, you notice the curiosity at the madness in your request.

“Are you sure you aren’t the mad Mercian princess?”

You offer a humorless laugh at his taunt, and retort, “I don’t want to be here anymore. And…I can prove useful to you.”

“If you say a wife…”

You don’t let him finish, leaning closer and whispering,

“They want me to marry Alfred.”

“And you don’t want to.”

“His grandfather took Mercia from me, I will not be used as a broodmare so they can hold on tighter to my kingdom.”

The Viking starts to smile, wild and yet calculating, the ruthless and intelligent man his fame says he is.

“But you don’t want revenge.”

“They can fight for the scraps of what once was a mighty kingdom for the rest of time for all I care,” You offer honestly, “I do not want to be caught up in between. I will have to give him children if I marry him, and I refuse to let a child of mine suffer like my mother did, like Blaeja did.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, and his tone grows cruel, mocking, like the cat that plays with the poor mouse before eating it, when he insists, “I could make you a slave, sell you. If you annoy me, I could torture you. If you betray me, I would kill you.”

“I told you I was of use to you, though,” You insist past the fear that makes your hands tremble, “I will not be of use in pieces. You and Alfred played chess before, haven’t you?”

He loosens his posture, his expression is no longer so guarded and venomous as he asks, “And what is this use?”

“I’m a pawn they want to make Queen,” You state, and the Viking starts to smile. You knew he was smart; you knew he was aware of how he could take advantage of ‘taking’ you as a prisoner for his own gain. You have a feeling he wanted to know if you were aware of how your position could be played. Like chess, you ponder. “Surely you could ask for a lot in exchange for my safe return home.”

He considers your words in silence for a few moments, eyes travelling between yours as if trying to read your response to the words he has not yet uttered.

“And if I don’t want to return you to your home?”

You shrug, “Then they’ll have a rallying call for their war against your people, and I will be free from these…these nobles and their fucking priests.”

The Viking breathes a laugh, surprised and a little enthralled it seems, but you find yourself smiling back.

You keep careful eyes on the moon that travels the skies, watchful over the time that you will have to return to your rooms before anyone notices your absence. But in the meantime, you enjoy with easy smiles and a light heart the company of the Viking, surprisingly enough.

____

And the few extra days Blaeja can buy you do almost nothing for the plans of your escape -a part of you is certain the Viking has a plan he won’t share with you- but it does let you get to know the man you are asking to kidnap you. A giant brute like the others, that’s for certain, but he is smart, and cunning, and his dry humor never fails to make you laugh.

You find yourself intrigued, captivated, much more so than you could have thought when you made the choice to speak out against his brother during that first dinner. It is no secret to you he is no longer a pawn in the game you decided to play, but you cannot help but think you still are merely a pawn to him.

One of the nights you meet under the guard of the moon, he starts, “I cannot take you from this city, not without an army.”

“I know.”

His eyebrows raise, “And you have thought of a way around that.”

“Haven’t you?” You reply with a small smile, knowing he has.

“If you could go closer to York…”

“Or you closer to Tamworth.”

“We’d have no way to leave by sea. I can’t exactly walk through the wilderness with you, Princess, as you can see.”

You roll your eyes with a smile on your lips, but eventually acquiesce with a nod.

You sigh, “Then I don’t know, Ivar.”

You notice it is the first time you have said his name instead of his title, and you raise startled and apologetic eyes to him. He doesn’t seem to mind, though you notice his gaze lingering on you for a few moments longer than it should.

It gives your still young and innocent heart a shock of hope that you feel all the way to the tips of your fingers.

“One way or another, I will steal you, Princess,” He insistes, and you only lift an eyebrow in response. He crosses his arms, “I promise.”

____

“They leave tonight.” Blaeja starts from her place sitting at your side on the garden bench. You turn to her.

“You leave tonight,” You remind her, “Aren’t you forgetting your lovely husband to be?”

But she shakes her head, “Prince Sigurd and I will marry if he returns,” Her voice wavers, and you realize with a mix of dread and joy she has learned to care for the Viking. She straightens her back and continues, “When he returns from the battle they depart today to prepare for.”

“Against Alfred?”

“Against the woman that murdered their mother. He says they are to take back their Kingdom from her.”

“Your Prince trusts you with all of these things.”

“His brother tells you things too.” She states without hesitation, and you look at her but stay silent, not denying Ivar has told you of Queen Aslaug and her murder already. Many things actually, just as you have told him many things too.

“So it will be a while before you see him again, if ever.” You muse, not only talking about her. It would be foolish to feel pain, loss, fear; you tell yourself. It doesn’t stop the prick of tears on your eyes, or the pit of pain on your chest.

“I will depart to Bamburgh in three days to await word of the outcome of the battle.”

You lay your head on her shoulder, releasing a shaky breath, “I’ll miss you.”

_____

Judith hounds you like a dog and it is starting to get on your nerves. You feel you are being judged and considered carefully for the role of Alfred’s wife, a role you do not want to be in and, if you were to ask him, you don’t think he’d want you in either.

The talks start of having a royal wedding soon after Blaeja weds the Viking Prince, who seems to have survived the battle for Kattegat. You tried asking around, bribing a servant or two, to figure out the fate of Prince Ivar, but you are too close to bearing the crown for them to feel comfortable trading secrets with you, it seems.

You catch sight of Alfred’s eyes on you during a dinner one night, and he offers what you swear is a soothing smile even if his warm eyes shine with regret.

Judith grabs onto her son’s arm and a tired-looking Aethelwulf stands up from his throne, calling for the attention of the clergy and nobles alike.

They announce you as Alfred’s betrothed after a few words you don’t bother with listening to.

As a gift for his bride to be, Alfred arranges for a few soldiers to escort you to Bamburgh, apparently at the request of Princess Blaeja that you accompany her on her wedding day. And barely with time to pack, almost three months after you last saw her, you are in a carriage on your way to the North.

____

She looks radiant, that’s the first thing you notice when you see her awaiting for you by the gates to the royal home. Bright smile and even brighter eyes, rosy cheeks and excitement and joy written all over her posture.

It gladdens you, to know she will be wed to a man she can care for, a man that can care for her. That maybe, just maybe, like in those tales your mother used to mock, there’s love to be felt before the Lord is to bind them together.

And once the ships arrive you will not lie and pretend you don’t feel disappointment, maybe grief, at the absence of the vitriolic yet captivating prince you met what seems so long ago.

You heard them talking about a son of Ragnar becoming King of Kattegat, and you have no doubts as to who bears the crown now. In another world, you may have left, he may have earned a kingdom in what used to be Mercia or Northumbria in exchange for the safe return to Wessex you’d never make.

But you will not let it stop you from finding a way out of this arrangement, of this…this marriage.

The possibility of asking Blaeja to claim you as a permanent resident of her land is there, of course, but you don’t think she has enough leverage against the crown itself to be able to keep you more than a few months. You could simply run away, but you are not stupid, you know you’d die or be found before you can spend a moon in the wilderness.

Still, you are a smart woman, you tell yourself, you will find a way out.

While the dinner -feast, they call it- in celebration for the wedding takes place, a man you recognize as one of the eldest sons of Ragnar approaches you while you sit alone.

You cannot help the pang of fear that runs through you at the sight of one of those giants looming over you, but you still offer what you hope is a courteous smile.

“You have to come with me.” He tells you, and you frown.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Follow me.”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, turning his back to you and slithering effortlessly between the dancing and feasting guests. After a moment of consideration, with a small smile on your face as if it were a thrillingly dangerous game of hide and seek, you chase after the Viking.

He leads you all the way down to the docks, and since the moon is high up in the skies, the streets are almost deserted and you are left forced to guide yourself in the darkness or thanks to the rare and dim light of a faraway lantern.

You still push on, your heart beating on your ears and fear and thrill bubbling under your skin.

“This is where I leave you, Princess,” The son of Ragnar says, stopping abruptly and turning to you. You frown, but he doesn’t step closer so you have nothing to fear. “We will see each other again.”

The man with the blondish and long hair gestures a mock of a formal goodbye, and walks confidently back to the royal home where the party -feast- is still taking place.

You are left dumbfounded and alone in the darkness, and instinct makes you want to chase after him and demand answers.

“Following a strange Viking into the darkness,” A familiar voice starts from behind you, stopping you on your tracks, “No wonder people say you are as crazy as your mother, Princess.”

You turn around with a frown and raised chin, ready to retort, “My mother was not c-…”

But you realize halfway as the words leave your lips whose voice it is, to whom the familiar pale blue eyes belong to.

Ivar stands now, and his hair seems longer and braided in some strange style, even his armor looks different. It seems like years have passed even though it has scarcely been half a year yet.

“You’re alive.” You whisper, and the Viking frowns, affronted.

“Of course I am,” He replies arrogantly, and you cannot keep the smile from your lips. He extends a hand, “And I’ve come to…steal you, was it?”

You don’t answer, even if a part of you is thrilled at him remember that first conversation. You only look at him with wide eyes.

“You’re a king now.”

“Hmm, and I was offered a queen, was I not?”

It startles you back to reality, back to your senses, and you notice the three ships with dim lanterns and silent warriors docked at the sides of the dragon-headed ship Ivar -King Ivar now, you suppose- stands in.

“That’s…not what I meant.” You say, but still your hand grasps at the skirts of your dress to lift it up, and you walk closer.

“Have you decided to stay with them?” And the sudden steel underneath his words, a promise of what you could be at the other end of if he is to believe you’ve fooled him, or gone back on your word, makes a thrill of fear go down your back.

“No, but…”

“Usually stealing a bride doesn’t involve this much talking, Princess.” He interrupts, and extends a hand, and you look at it with wide eyes.

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“I-…” You look into his eyes, pale blue eyes that you saw more than once when you closed your own in these past months, and a breathy laugh leaves your lips, “This is madness.”

Ivar says nothing, but his hand is still stretched between you. You take it, and jump into the ship.

___

So, that was it :/ I have a feeling it’s pretty boring but I’ll hope that’s cause I wrote it lol

Thank you for reading! I would love to know what you think, and if you wanna rquest anything go right ahead, I promise to try my best lol

Thank you, I hoped you enjoyed <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #vikings imagine

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inmyfxith · 4 years

Text

My King

Pairing: Ivar x shieldmaiden!reader

Summary: You are a respected shieldmaiden from Kattegat and when the time came, you make the decision of following Ivar instead of Lagertha.

Words: 918

The silent came into the great hall when Lagertha asked you toward who your allegiance would go. Did it go to her or to Aslaug’s sons? You were a respected shieldmaiden in Kattegat, everybody knew you and your family and people also knew that you were a good leader by making the right choice. Sat on her throne, Lagertha was looking at you, waiting for your answer. You approached her before bending the knee in front of her chair of royalty. You smirked when you stood up.

"I don't know many things but the gods allowed me to dream last night. The first time since years and years and you know what, I saw the man that I could call my king without any shame. He was able to scare all his enemies with only a gaze even in front of the golden doors of Valhalla, to elaborate strategies worthy of Odin himself. My king had the strength of Thor and the deviousness of Loki. He conquered a lot of lands. He had ambition and determination as no one. He was and he is the only man I would follow until my death. He was… King Ivar the boneless" While you were saying your last sentence, you turned to face Aslaug’s youngest son who was as shocked as all the people in the room.

You approached him and knelt in front of him as you just do in front of Lagertha but now the expression on your face was more serious. You knew that many men of your family would follow you in your choice, since you were a woman able to fight alongside men, you always served Ragnar’s family with bravery and loyalty. You pull out your sword and present it to Ivar.

“My blade and my life are yours until the day I would pass away. I promise you to never betray you and if that happened one day I asked you to kill me because that would mean that I lost my mind. I have nothing to offer to you except my loyalty and my strength. I will fight for you, alongside you if you allow me to do so.”

You heard Lagertha sighed behind your back, she was angry and disgusted because knowing you with Ivar would be a huge problem for her. You were one of the only women she knew that could fight an army of men and stay alive. You stood up and you saw Ivar smirked and looking at Lagertha with a proud smile. You knew that if Ivar asked you to kill Lagertha right here right now you would have taken your sword and fought her until one of you saw Valkyries bringing the other to Valhalla. But he just asked you to be ready for when he would need you. A simple look to your father awarded you that he was angry with your choice but you were old enough to make your own decisions.

The time to avenge Ragnar’s death came, you follow your family in England and fight bravely in battles. Always having an eye on Ivar and killing several enemies who were in his way. As the days passed, you became more and more concerned about his health, not letting anyone approach him without seeing you before to be sure that no one would kill him under your nose and your effort seemed to please the boneless. You didn’t have his confiance but he knew that you were loyal to him as you were to his father and also to his mother when Ragnar disappeared. You felt guilty when Lagertha killed Aslaug because you were not here to help your queen, to save her therefore you promise you to never left her beloved son without a good protection. After avenging Ragnar, after the blood eagle torture on King Aelle and the agreement with King Ecbert, you joined the other vikings in the banquet organised to celebrate the victory. You were sitting on King Harald and his brother’ table where you heard Ivar arguing with his brother Sigurd. You never truly liked Sigurd because he was always disrespecting your king, when his tone became loud enough to be heard by everyone you stood up and took your sword.

“Keep your mouth shut or I will assure myself to you never sing again” You were ready to walk over him but you were stopped by Bjorn who told you to don’t talk to him like that and to sit down again if you didn’t want to have more trouble.

“I don’t receive my order from you Bjorn Ironside, if my king wants me to sit I will sit but if he wants me to jump next to him and to kill this idiot who is disrespecting him I will do it with or without your consent.” Bjorn frowned before looking at Ivar who was frowning too. He made a sign to order you to stay outside of his argument and you listened to him but you didn’t sit again, you stayed next to the few stairs to be sure to be here if things turned out badly.

It took you only a second to understand that things would be different when you saw the axe planting on Sigurd’s chest. This evening you came to Ivar's tent and you told him that no one would ever disrespect him again or even harm him because you would be here for him everytime he would need you by his side.

#vikings #vikings imagine #vikings imagines #ivar #ivar the boneless #king ivar #Bjorn Ironside #bjorn #lagertha

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conaionaru · 3 years

Text

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

Strange birds

Synopsis: To Vanya’s delight, Ivar returns alive to his family. But the bliss of being reunited gets destroyed by more talk of revenge

Warnings: angst, talk of revenge, talk of murder, mentions of death, power couple Ivar x Vanya

Tags:

@xbellaxcarolinax @queenbeeta @thereareendlessopportunities @chynagirl13 @astridbaby @heavenly1927 @buckysjuicyplums @youbloodymadgenius @didiintheblog @lol-haha-joke @shannygoatgruff @xvxcarolinexvx @stepintothelightz

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

Clad in Hoenir's poor excuse of a cloak, Vanya sneaked to the Seer's hut. Hoenir offered no clear answers, and she needed some very fast. So the cryptic blind prophet.

The hut was thick with smoke from candles, and the old man laid in his bed unmoving. The redhead crept towards him and watched him lay there, unsure if he is even alive.

"What does Frigg's favored ward want?"

Vanya jumped at the raspy voice and took a few steps back as the Seer sat up with some difficulty. Licking her lips, she tried to will herself to speak. But no words left her mouth.

"I am very old, child. Speak or leave."

"I..." She swallowed and kneeled in front of the ancient prophet. Fidgeting in her lap, Vanya kept her gaze low as she spoke the painful words. "Is Ivar truly dead? Am I a widow?"

Tears burned in her eyes as the Seer sighed and told her to look up. "Ivar the Boneless has a fate decided by the Gods. So do you. It is up to them to choose when you die. You may run from your destiny. But it has a way of ending the same way."

She shook her head and showed him the carved figurine of Fenrir that Ivar gave her. "I am asking you if he is dead. Not if he will die one day! It is a yes or no answer."

"He is not dead. Just lost."

"Lost? Out on the sea? In Wessex? Where?"

The Seer took the toy from her hands and trailed his aged fingers over it. "In his head. In revenge. As are you. You are as different as the sun and the moon. And in the end, when Ragnarok strikes... Fenrir will swallow you both."

He returned the item back to her, Vanya's mouth in a tight line as she cradled the toy to her chest. How ironic that what was once a sign of love would turn into their downfall. "And what is Fenrir? Greed? Revenge? Pride? Anger?"

"Madness and love. Two sides of the same coin. Always spinning but doomed to fall. One day, you and Ivar will fall, as well. And never rise together again."

She couldn't help but chuckle at the revelation. The sound tumbled out of her throat like vomit, hysterical, and mad at the same time. She felt like crying, but the tears were lost to her. "Are you sure fate is inevitable? Can't there be another way I could keep my husband and sanity both? I would give the gods Anything in return."

"Truly anything?" The Seer asked, his voice sending chills down her spine. He sounded even crazier than her like the voice wasn't his at all.

"Anything but my son. Take my birthright, sympathies, or allies. But let me keep my family and life." The Seer chuckled and pointed at a chest and told her to open it.

When she did as asked, inside laid a coin with the rune for Loki drawn on it. Vanya furrowed her brows and looked at the Seer in question. "Am I making a deal with Loki?"

"Would you if that was what it took to outrun your destiny?"

She chuckled and looked at Fenrir figurine - the child of Loki. "You said you would do Anything... Anything to keep the wolf from you and yours."

"Father always said that deals with the devil would lead to calamity. Is a deal with Loki the same?"

The Seer ignored her question and laid back down as if he was exhausted. After a moment, he showed her his palm. Vanya licked it and left, Loki's coin still in her hand.

Ivar taught her all the runes of his people. The one that looked like a bird beak pointing right stands for Loki - for understanding, cunning, enthusiasm, and many more things. "I don't know if that was Loki or not..."

She looked out at sea and saw a boat approaching. "But I won't risk it. I will keep Ivar from losing himself further... And if I lose myself in the process, then so be it."

Vanya crouched down and dug a hole into the sand under her feet. With one last look, Vanya threw the coin in and buried the item for now. "I came from a long line of cunning liars. But if I am to die, let it be while there is still some of me left." With that, she left the Seer's hut and walked to the docks to see what the commotion is about.

By the time she reached the docks, the ship had docked. Sigurd and Ubbe stood by the boat as they unloaded someone from the vessel. Vanya felt her throat squeeze tight as she saw them carrying a limp body. All hope left her as she thought of the worst possible scenario. They were bringing Ivar's corpse home to be buried.

When Sigurd and Ivar turned, she could breathe again. Her husband's eyes were open, and he was alive. He still looked half a corpse, but he was alive, and that is all that mattered. "Ivar!" She cried out happily and lifted the skirt of her purple dress to run towards the three brothers.

Ubbe looked at her and jerked his head to the side, motioning for her to follow. Ignoring their confused stares for why she isn't in the hut, Vanya walked beside them to their new home.

Inside the hut sat Hoenir and Brynja, looking after little Aros, who squealed in delight when he saw his father. The son reached for his father and babbled away. The Ragnarsson sat Ivar down on a chair as Vanya ran in and pulled the cloak off, throwing it at Hoenir's head.

Ivar took the cup of ale from Ubbe's hands and took a few gulps to settle his stomach.

"Where is our father?" Sigurd asked, looking at his younger brother with no sympathy. Troubling journey or not, they already lost their mother. Losing Ragnar would mean that they were left vulnerable.

"Where is Ragnar?" Ubbe pressed on when Ivar failed to answer. Vanya watched him sadly, his face solemn and pale.

"King Ecbert handed him over to King Aelle, knowing that Aelle would kill him."

Her breath hitched at the information. Aelle hated Ragnar Lothbrok with a passion and would undoubtedly kill him. Meaning Lagertha's ploy to rule by his side was for naught, and war would ensure to get her off the throne.

"Why would he give him to Aelle?" Ubbe squinted at his brother, not believing him at all.

"It doesn't matter. Our father is probably dead by now. And we will have to avenge him. That is what matters." Ivar insisted, looking at his wife, who looked at him with pity for the first time in forever. He hated the look on her.

While Vanya and Ivar watched each other, Sigurd and Ubbe had a stare off as well. "We have something to tell you."

"Ubbe?"

"Mother is dead."

Ivar looked at his oldest brother for confirmation. "It's true. Lagertha killed her. Lagertha is now Queen of Kattegat. And Mother is dead."

The Ragnarsson searched the room for any sign of lies. His breath turned shaky, and he felt like crying—the first person to love him and care for him, dead. The only parent that remained to him and raised him was gone.

Hoenir dragged Brynja, Sigurd, and Ubbe outside to give the married couple some privacy. Vanya picked up Aros from his seat on the furs around the fire and passed him to Ivar. She seated herself in Ubbe's empty chair and waited for him to acknowledge her.

The father clutched his son tightly to him, muttering into his ear, eyes dark like a stormy sea. He looked as if he was drowning in himself, in all the rage and sadness. Aslaug predicted that he would drown... But what if his fate was to die away from the sea. He was getting swallowed by his emotions till he lost his mind. As the Seer said, they both would.

Worried by his silence, she snatched at his hand, calling out his name in fear. His blue eyes looked more black now, no longer the pretty blue she fell in love with. His sorrow was warping him right in front of her eyes, and it tore at her heart. "What happened to mother?"

Vanya swallowed and squeezed his hand in reassurance. "They ambushed Hoenir in the morning, wounded him pretty badly. Then they stormed Kattegat. Aslaug led Aros and me to Lagertha. She renounced everything in front of everybody. Asked for a safe passage for the three of us..."

Ivar waited for her to continued, but Vanya couldn't say it out loud. It felt like she was right there, just a few steps in front of her mother in law. The swish of the arrow as it shot Aslaug in the back and ended her life. All because of a man that married them both.

"Vanya!" Ivar insisted. He softened his expression and rubbed his thumb up and down against her knuckles. "How did Lagertha kill my Mother?"

"She shot her in the back. Pronounced her a witch and had the gull to kill her like she was no more than a dog. Aslaug died with her head held high... She knew what was coming."

Ivar's lip quivered as tears brimmed his eyes. Tears spilled from her own eyes, Aros whining in his father's lap. "We will avenge her. I swear to you, Ivar. Her death will not go unpunished. No matter what I have to do. Aslaug's memory should be honored."

He choked out a cry, Vanya springing from her seat to run to his side. Wrapping his left arm around her waist, Ivar hid his face against her stomach. They cried together for a while—mourning Aslaug, Ragnar, his trauma, and celebrating his return all in one.

"I have nothing left now."

Vanya shook her head and buried her fingers in his short hair. "That's a lie. You have your brothers. And me. You gave a son Ivar. I will stand by your side till Ragnarok... We swore to be together forever. I won't break that promise."

He sobbed against her stomach harder, cradling both his wife and son close to him. Happy and sad at the same time. How he looked forward to being with them again, only for his life to be turned upside down once again.

Ivar explained to her everything that happened to him and his father in Wessex. Vanya silently thanked Ragnar for holding onto his word and getting Ivar home safely. For all that hate she bore Ragnar Lothbrok, at least he kept his promise to her and saved his son from the same fate that would befall him.

Sigurd and Hoenir walked side by side, the silence comfortable for both of them. They both had too many things on their minds. "Isn't that Leifr?" Hoenir frowned and looked where Sigurd jerked his head at.

And true to his word, the young man sat against a house, axe against his shoulder. When he saw them approach, he turned away and closed his eyes like he didn't see them.

Sigurd scoffed and bumped shoulders with Hoenir. "Go talk to him."

"I can't!"

"You have a tongue, don't you, my friend?" The Ragnarsson teased, giving him a reassuring look. "No one will suspect anything if that's what you are worried about. You know, people talk with each other?"

Hoenir rolled his eyes and sighed, walking towards Leifr, who continued to ignore him. For someone who was eager to spend time with Hoenir, he was unusually cold to him. "Leifr."

The man pretended to be asleep. "I saw you being awake."

"Leifr..." Hoenir looked over his shoulder at Sigurd, who gave him a subtly thumbs up. "I am tired of these games."

Leifr continued to fake sleep, so with a sigh, Hoenir turned on his heel to leave. "I heard what happened." Turning back towards the farmer, he saw him finally awake.

"Let's take a walk..." The two walked to a secluded area, away from prying ears and eyes. Sigurd sent him another thumbs-up, this time, Leifr saw it.

"Does he know?"

"They all do. Expect Ivar." Hoenir watched the ground, refusing to meet the other's eyes. "They took it better than I expected."

"That's because you are too afraid to admit it. For a great warrior with the gift of foresight... You are a coward."

Hoenir glared at him and stepped closer, almost face to face with his daring lover. "Bold words from you! At least I talked to you. You ignored me!"

Leifr rolled his eyes and raised his hand to Hoenir's shoulder. The taller male stepped back, watching the calloused hand warily. "I saw you when the attack happened. You looked like shit."

"Well, you don't look like a God either." Leifr chuckled at the defensive remark and drew back his lover's clothes to look at the scar on his shoulder.

"We can't all be Gods... And I am quite content with the life I have." Hoenir scoffed and jerked his head towards the open streets.

"And yet you complain about us being a secret."

Leifr shrugged and tugged off Hoenir's hood. "You are a mystery to everyone. I am simply trying to keep up with you. I can't be that easy to read either, don't you think?"

Hoenir chuckled and looked into Leifr's dark eyes. "Fair enough. I must go. If you leave a Ragnarsson alone for too long, they will fuck the wrong girl and get themselves killed."

"Another reason to like men. Never a problem like that when you don't sleep with women." Leifr patted his cheek and ran off, leaving the brooding Seer behind.

Vanya carried Aros in her arms up a hill. The terrain was bad enough even without the shieldmaiden following her like the plague. According to the woman, they were ordered by Lagertha to watch the sons of Ragnar and Vanya. Especially Vanya if she dared to question Lagertha's authority again.

Upon a stone sat her husband clad in the black cloak she made for him before his departure. He looked like a shadow of what he once was. Her chest felt heavy as she stood there in her purple dress and black cloak.

She could feel his turmoil from here. So when he let out a pain-filled scream, Vanya felt like he was ripping out her heart. She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her teeth to stop herself from screaming with him. Pressure spread through her head as if it would explode at any moment.

Aros let out a wail as well. The voices of the two most important people in her life carried through the mountain. Tears spilled down her cheeks, sobs choking her own whimpers of sympathy.

Remembering the days, she spent crying herself to sleep after her father died. The only family that ever paid any mind to her - and according to Silas, it was a ploy too. A false love or not, she cried for him when she was thirteen. She knew the pain of losing a parent, but Ivar's was worse.

While Vanya was raised by strange women that were paid to do it and a reserved father, Ivar was raised by a loving mother who desperately tried to replace his absentee father and his missing legs. She sheltered him from the world as much as she could, making herself his only source of love and affection.

No matter how much Ubbe loved him, Ivar only saw his mother. And now she was dead and with her the man that Ivar strived to make proud. He cried yesterday for both of them. But the pain was still there, and screaming was the only way to let out the emotions that he undoubtedly felt.

He looked over at her with red eyes, the cloak wrapped around him like armor. "Kjære (Dear/Love)." Vanya sobbed harder at his choked out endearment. She had no idea how to help him lessen his suffering.

Aros sobbed in her arms, tugging at her red locks, but no amount of swaying or patting helped calm him down. He had been cranky from the morning, and now his mood worsened alongside his father's. "Tell me how to help you. I don't know what to do..."

Ivar clenched his fists tightly, looked down at his useless legs, and turned away from her to spare himself her pitiful looks. "Leave... I am an orphan now. I have no claim to my father's and mother's fame and fortune now. A cripple with nothing to offer you. Run while you still can."

Vanya scoffed and marched towards him but stopped when he glared at her. Hiding his sorrow behind the rage. She wouldn't be scared of him even if he threatened her life. "I could care less about what you have to offer me! I have riches of my own. If it is money you desire, then tell me so! But don't shut me out, Ivar. Please..."

"What is there to hold onto? There is nothing left but anger and sadness in me now."

"So there is no place in your heart for your son and me?" Ivar glanced at her with soft eyes but hardened his stare right after. She was a princess and deserved better than a cripple like him. Vanya deserved happiness and a good life, so did Aros. They both deserved a better husband and father, somebody worthy of them.

"No... No place at all. Nothing left to love or be loved."

Vanya shook her head and pulled Aros tighter to her. "I still love you! Aros cried for you while you were gone. I mourned your death, but you came back. So stop pushing me away and let me in!"

"You don't love me, Vanya."

"Of course I love you!"

Ivar shook her head while Vanya sprinted towards him and kneeled before him. Smiling at him softly, she pried his hands from their tight grip and cupped them between hers. "I fell in love with the man that showed me a side of him that no one else knew of. Someone who was stronger in so many ways than anyone I knew. A boy that made me smile and promised to protect me no matter how hard it may get. My husband that I promised I would love till the end of times. The father of my son and all my children to come. The only one I will ever love."

The Ragnarsson kissed her knuckles and pulled Aros into his lap to shush him. When they both calmed down, she cupped his cheek, Ivar leaning into her touch and melting at the affection. "Is a life of vengeance what you want?"

Vanya smiled at him and nodded sadly. "If it's a life by your side... Then I am ready for whatever may come. I promise I will do everything and more to protect you. And then we will kill them all." Ivar smiled at her and pressed his forehead against hers. Thanking the gods for giving him, Vanya.

Sitting in the hall as people cheered for Lagertha was sickening. How ungrateful people could be just because they knew one ruler better than the other. Herding like sheep behind an usurper so easily.

The speech the Queen gave was broing to say the least. Vanya's mother would have called Lagertha a begginer manipulator. She bullshitted her way about how Kattegat was neglected by Aslaug. As if it wasn't a trading port that prospered under it's Queen. Far better off then it ever was with Ragnar. And Lagertha acknowledged it as well, but didn't give the credit where it was due.

The crowd parted as Ivar made his way to the throne. Vanya rose from her seat and walked towards Ubbe, her head held high. Showing no sign of fear or regret as Aslaug ordered. Aros was safe with Brynja and Hoenir at Brynja's hut. And Vanya was safe with Ubbe and Sigurd while Ivar did what he had to do.

He seated himself on the chair that Ubbe provided for him. "I've come here for justice. Everyone knows that you killed my mother for no reason, except ambition. Therefore, I demand justice."

"Ivar..."

"Don't touch me, coward." Ivar shrugged off Ubbe's hand and glared at Lagertha.

The new Queen walked down the steps of her throne, putting a hand on Ivar's shoulder and looking at him with hard eyes. "He is not a coward. But perhaps he understands some things that you don't."

"I understand everything perfectly. You murdered my mother in cold blood. I want revenge. I challenge you to single combat."

The crowd started muttering between themselves, Sigurd glanced at Vanya, who didn't like a bit surprised by the challenge. "I refuse."

"You can't refuse."

Lagertha stepped back and spread her arms wide to show no ill will. "I refuse to fight you, Ivar Lothbrok, son of Ragnar." The whispers grew louder as Ivar watched her confused.

"Why? Huh?"

She looked down at him over her shoulder. "I don't want to kill you."

Ivar chuckled and scratched his head with his pike sheepishly. "Who says you would kill me?"

"I do."

"All right. Don't fight me, then. I don't care. Just as long as you know that one day, I will kill you, Lagertha. Your fate is fixed." With tha last smug remark, Ivar crawled off. Astrid looked at the satisfied expression on Vanya's face and the neutral faces of the other Ragnarssons.

"A private word Vanya." Ubbe drew his axe when he Queen spoke the words, Sigurd pushed her behind him. But Vanya pushed him to the side and stepped in front of the throne, right on the right side of Ivar's earlier seat.

"Say what you want."

Lagertha leaned forward and smiled at Vanya with fake kindness. "I understand that your husband is in a difficult position right now. But it would benefit all of you if you reminded that I did not harm you or your son."

"Is that reminder or threat? Neither are wise right now." Vanya raised her eyebrow at the blonde shieldmaiden, ignoring Torvi's warning look. The Ragnarssons flocked against her sides, ready to protect her if they must. But Vanya paid them no mind.

"I don't want to fight. War only brings unneseccary bloodshed and sorrow."

Vanya scoffed and fingered the Jörmungandr necklace and smiled wrily. "Bold words from the woman who bought both when she murdered a defensless woman. The blood on your hands was what started this war, Lagertha. Remember that."

Astrid glared at her. "Your hands are stained with blood as well! Or was your brother an accident? And his knights?" Lagertha silenced her lover, but it was too late. The crowd muttered about her statement. They all agreed Silas and his men deserved what hit them. Vanya didn't kill innocent people that didn't deserved it. The manner of death was different as well, they weren't granted life only to be shot in the back.

Vanya looked at the shieldmaiden and smirked softly with her eyebrow up. "My brother had it coming. And you may claim what you want, but everyone knows why they died. I have blood on my hands, I admit. But not blood of the innocent."

She looked back at Legertha and spread her arms wide just like she did before. Mocking the new Queen might become Vanya's new favorite past time. "I may hate violence and bloodshed. Not a very Viking trait I am certain... But if the moment calls for it..."

She let the words hang in the room. The threat obvious to Lagertha and her followers. Astrid raised her shield and drew her sword as Ubbe and Sigurd stepped closer to Vanya in answer. But the princess only smiled and waited for the Queen to say something.

"I am no fighter, Lagertha. I don't wish to become a shieldmaiden like you or Torvi. But bear in mind that the next time you or anyone lay a hand on me or my family..." Her smile faded and turned into a cold expression that could rival Ivar's. "It will be the last time you have hands."

Tugging her brothers in law behind her, Vanya left the hall hiding her satisfaction and unease. Vanya was raised to be quiet and meek, but heathens are anything but. So let them see the storm they created.

The Seer foretold that the Gods meant Greatness for her and her children - each born of fire and blood. So let's see what the Gods have in store for them all.

Vanya stayed at home with her son while Ivar went to the forge. Aros was restless the whole day and no amount of lullabies seemed to help. At times she was worried something was wrong with him, but everyone reassured her that babies were like that.

"The stones crack open, the water burns The shadows come to dance, my lord The shadows come to play The shadows come to dance, my lord The shadows come to stay"

The door creaked open, but Vanya ignored it. It must be Ubbe to come check on them like he has been for the past two hours. But a hand touched the boy's forehead over her shoulder, and he fell asleep. Vanya couldn't move as somebody lingered behind her in silence.

It felt like she was underwater again, her lungs screaming for air, but her brain refusing to let her breathe. "Ragnar Lothbrok is dead. Killed by serpents. Cold in the cold, iron earth, Ragnar lies."

The hand on Aros's forehead pulled back, and the door closed behind the person. Snapped out of her dreamlike state, Vanya sprung from her seat and ran outside to see Ubbe in a daze, as well. She watched him as raven's cawed above them, a storm gathering above them.

#vikings #history vikings #vikings imagine #ivar imagine #original female character #original character #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years

Text

Not Today III

A/N: Hello everyone! So, a little bit of foreshadowing has begun, and we have a brief insight into the relationship Aethelind has with Alfred! I really wanted to be sure to explore that relationship, since it will be so integral to the plot later on. So, a smaller chapter, focused on a smaller scene, but no less important to the plot! Next week, much of our cast will return for the feast. Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

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The servants all knew to stay away when Aethelind and Alfred were having one of their disagreements. That, or they knew if it went on for too long, to go get their mother. The struggle with these two was found in the conflicting parts of their father they each embodied. And, truthfully, Alfred did want to help the Vikings who had turned up on his and Aethelind’s door. He just…

He knew what they were capable of. He knew the destruction brought to the shores of Wessex by these Northmen. They weren’t safe, and couldn’t be trusted. But at the same time, he remembered the kind eyes of his grandfather’s close friend, the curiosity in the eyes of that man’s son. He couldn’t quite make the two go together, sometimes, in his mind. Perhaps that was why his sister was now pleading with him to assist the Vikings. She had gotten it all straight.

But then, he realized the same men in her villa, Björn and Ubbe Ragnarsson, had killed both his grandfathers, and he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to see them the way she apparently did. He couldn’t understand her heart for them. They had betrayed their grandfather, Ecbert. How could she know they wouldn’t betray her, too?

He had voiced that question, and that, he knew, was the cause of her absolutely bewildered look. Clearly, he’d messed up in asking that. He could tell by her expression exactly what was going through her mind.

“You let fear control you too much,” she finally said, after a few moments of simply staring at him. Perhaps he hadn’t known exactly what, then. “Our father would be absolutely appalled at this. There shouldn’t even be any discussion. You and I both know he’d jump to assist them.”

"Our father destroyed their settlement, Aethelind,” he countered, and then her expression turned pointed, unimpressed. He’d known what she meant, and dodged it, not wanting to admit she was right.

“Our true father,” she said lowly. “Athelstan.”

Ah, yes, thought Alfred. The closest friend of Ragnar Lothbrok. And what good did that friendship do him?

“He was betrayed by the Vikings,” Alfred pointed out. “We know one of them killed him. Grandfather told us this before he was killed by them, too.”

“Grandfather was found dead in his bath, you don’t know the Vikings killed him,” Aethelind argued.

“I know they brought their Great Heathen Army here, and when we returned, Grandfather was dead. Don’t be naïve, Aethelind. He turned Ragnar Lothbrok over to Grandfather Aelle. The Heathens came, went to Northumbria, came here to Wessex, and both our grandfathers died while they were here. What else can be assumed by this?”

“They never came here on that trip.”

Alfred sighed. He should have known that would have been kept from her. The truth of these sorts of matters could be jarring, he knew that, and so he understood why she wouldn’t have been told- especially as she’d continued speaking of that boy, even as he helped lead the army that killed their grandfathers.

“They did,” he confessed. “It’s why we left, right before Grandfather Ecbert passed. He knew they would come, and sent us away for safety. They killed him in his bath, and that’s why we returned to find him gone.”

Alfred watched as she seemed to grow cold, distant from him. That was never good. She was angry. Her brows creased together, her eyes hardened, and she let out a slightly bitter laugh.

“And no one saw fit to tell me of this?” she questioned, voice low. “No one thought I should know that Vikings came and killed both our grandfathers? Why? Was I deemed to be too fond of one of them to be trusted with this information?” Even though her voice hadn’t changed overly much, wasn’t too hostile in nature, Alfred flinched. This was almost worse than when she yelled. “You didn’t even see fit to tell me this, Alfred?”

“You… were too close to both sides of the conflict,” he said, and from the way he spoke, it sounded to her as if he were trying to soothe her. The idea was like salt in the wound he’d just reopened. “And it was difficult news to bear anyway. I thought to protect you by never saying-”

“No, you betrayed me by never saying,” she interrupted. “All this talk of how the Northmen will betray me, and you already have. And what harm could have been done anyway? I already sympathized with the Northmen. The worst case already was the case. If anything, you might have won my sympathies back! Yet now all you have done is solidified my convictions.

“And if nothing else, I know our father would have helped them. Our father left Wessex to be with them in Kattegat. He loved Ragnar Lothbrok. Despite all their differences, even when it came to faith, our father was the one at his right hand, even until his death. If he were here, he would advise that we send aid at once. I, for one, wish to uphold his legacy. I wish to be friends to these people, even if you find it ill-advised.”

Alfred regarded her with a very interested expression. He knew, of course, that she was right, but the way she was talking… “You sound just like him,” he said. “At least, how Mother says he sounded. His love for the Vikings… It’s as if you have inherited it from him.”

His comment seemed to lighten things a bit, though the mood became heavier in other ways, and she smiled a little. “Perhaps you have too,” she suggested. “You simply need to see them in a better light.”

“A better light?” Alfred asked. “What other way is there to see them?”

“Spend some time with them,” she suggested. “And perhaps, speak with our mother about them, and about our father’s relationship with them. She’s told me much of how it used to be, how they helped our grandfather take Mercia. How he, in turn, gave them land here to settle on to farm. How they lived there peacefully. All stories have more than one side to them, Alfred. Perhaps you should learn theirs.”

“Is that what you’ve just done? Spent time learning their story?”

Aethelind nodded, and sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose. “It’s terrible. What’s happened to them… It’s nothing I would wish on anyone. Björn and Ubbe’s brothers have betrayed them- Hvitserk and Ivar. They took Kattegat from under Lagertha, who was apparently its rightful ruler. He murdered their other brother, Sigurd. And even more, Lagertha and Björn knew our father, very well. They loved him, and were loved by him. If you don’t want to help the others… can we at least agree to help them, Alfred? They are no ordinary Northmen. They were friends of our father’s.”

He sighed once more, his brows drawing together thoughtfully as he looked to the table. “Alright,” he eventually agreed. “Lagertha and Björn… I will agree to help, though I cannot say yet in what way. The others are your guests, and I will not take ask you to turn them away. In the meantime, while we work on a plan to offer them aid, I will order a feast to be held to welcome them tonight. Hopefully, this will ensure them of our good faith. And, in accordance with your request, I will… spend some more time with those who our father did not know- Ubbe and… what is the other’s name? The woman with him?”

"Torvi,” Aethelind supplied. “She’s his wife, yes. She seems to be very sweet so far. I wasn’t sure she trusted me overly much, when we first met, but multiple times throughout their explanation, she advised them to go more slowly, to give me time to process what I was learning. I like her.”

Alfred nodded a little, and smiled. “Ubbe and Torvi, then. I will try to know them better, to please you, dear sister.”

Aethelind smiled at her brother, and nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “I will be trying to know them all well, especially in the event we must work more closely with them toward anything. It is imperative that they be able to trust us, not only that we be able to trust them. If we’re to accomplish anything, we must trust each other. We must become with them how our father was with theirs.”

Alfred chuckled softly, an amused smile on his face. “You are very passionate,” he commented affectionately. “They are blessed to have you on their side. I might have turned them away, otherwise. And yet, here you are, arguing for their good. I wonder what else you may try to talk me into, the longer they’re here?”

“Nothing too drastic, I shouldn’t imagine,” she teased. “Though, I’m not sure… Björn may be unmarried.”

Alfred nearly choked, his eyes widening exponentially. “That will not be happening. I am saying no to that right now. You will not be the wife of Björn Ironside. No.”

Aethelind giggled at how easily Alfred had fallen for her joke, a wide grin splitting her face, and he sighed. He should known better by now than to take such a comment seriously. As all their family were rather serious, he couldn’t be sure where she’d gotten such a penchant for mischief. But, it was amusing, and it broke the common monotony of daily life around the castle. He couldn’t be too upset about that, could he?

“One of these days I’ll learn to stop falling for your little tricks,” he told her, and she only laughed more.

“Oh, where would be the fun in that?” she asked. “No, if there’s something I can always rely on you for, Alfred, it’s falling for my ‘little tricks’. And, for coming around to the right way of thinking about things.”

“Or, more accurately, for supporting you. Even in the strangest of your endeavors- of which I’m sure this is one. Helping Vikings reclaim their village. Grandfather Aelle must be turning in his grave, right now.”

The smirk Aethelind wore made Alfred realize that didn’t upset her in the slightest, as did the comment she made.

“I don’t quite see the harm in that.”

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @wilhelmyna, @katfett, @fangirl-nonsense, @zuzus-sun, @heavenly1927

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#ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #vikings #vikings history #history channel vikings #not today #chapter three #ivar's heathen army #ivar fanfic #ivar ragnarsson #alex hogh andersen #ivar x ofc #ivar x original female character #ivar x christian!oc

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we-are-only-halfway-home93 · 3 years

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Come and Lay the Roses 28- Stars Are the Only Thing We Share- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: The mourning of Sigurd

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warning: Arranged marriage, violence, sex, torture, language, mentions of rape/sexual assault

Word Count: 2244

Ch. 27

“Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep.”

~Mary Elizabeth Frye

Ivar stood with his head bowed under the shower spray. He had his hands pressed to the wall letting the water run down his back and over his face in hot streams as steam rose around him, fogging the glass doors.

As he raised his head to let the water roll down his chest, he heard the glass door slide open. Cold, feminine hands slid down his back from the tops of his shoulders down around his waist. Aaline locked her hand around her wrist and pressed her breasts against Ivar’s back. He shuddered at the difference in temperature.

She scratched her nails gently across his abdomen, kissed the space between his shoulder blades, and settled her hands on his hips. She gently began to knead the muscles of his hips, circling her knuckles into the tight skin. He sighed and brought a hand down to wrap around her wrist. She stopped and tilted her head, settling her chin between his shoulders.

“How are you?” She asked. Ivar sighed and dropped her wrist, turning the water off. He stepped out of the shower, his wife close behind him. He handed her a towel before wrapping one around his waist. She called his name when he left the bathroom and he stopped and turned.

She was staring at him like he was a wounded animal, ready to attack at the smallest hint of a threat. “What?” He said. His voice was even and calm, betraying none of the mixed emotions stuck in his chest.

“I asked how you were. You didn’t answer me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the entryway to the bathroom. He sighed again and pulled open his dresser drawer, rummaging around for his socks.

“Ivar…” he cut her off.

“What would you like me to say, Aaline?”

She pushed off the frame and stepped towards him. “It’s your brother’s funeral today. Nothing you say is wrong.” Ivar snorted and continued rifling through his drawer.

“He was a brother I didn’t like.”

“You don’t like any of your brothers.”

“True but him I liked the least.”

“You can not like someone and still love them.”

Ivar stopped and stood up straight, facing his wife. “Min elskling, Sigurd held no love for me in his heart. He tormented me at every opportunity or did you forget your first family dinner?” Aaline looked down at the mention of that night.

He wasn’t wrong. She never cared for Sigurd either but she felt terribly for Sibylle. Twenty-five is much too young to be a widow. She wouldn’t mourn Sigurd herself but she mourned for Sibylle who lost her husband, and Ragnar who lost a son, the second child he would bury. She mourned for Björn, Ubbe, and Hvitserk who all lost a brother. She mourned for her husband.

He broke her out of her reverie. “He would not miss me if the tables were turned.” He turned back to his dresser. “I will not miss him.”

Aaline watched him pull his clothes out of the dresser and begin to dress. They hadn’t been married long but she was beginning to be able to tell when he was lying.

Aaline could count on one hand the number of times she’d been to a funeral. She was young when her mother died but she still remembered the somber faces that stood around the hole in the ground. She remembered holding her father’s hand, his fingers lose against her own smaller ones that clutched tightly, trying to understand.

She understood now.

She stood beside Ivar in the finely groomed grass, the ground hard beneath her heels, preventing her from sinking. She stood almost as tall as her husband.

Ivar clutched her hand tightly in his own, whether consciously or not, she didn’t know. She didn’t mind. She kept her hand tight in his own, never letting go. She had settled her other hand in the crook of his elbow, he body pressed close. Whether he admitted it or not, Ivar needed her today.

She glanced around as the preacher droned on about life and love and celebrating the life Sigurd had while mourning the one he would miss. Ragnar stood behind Sibylle, his hands resting on her shoulders.

Before they’d left for the cemetery, Margrethe had kindly slipped Sibylle a Valium. She had been inconsolable before they left. She refused to get out of bed and she couldn’t stop crying. Aaline had been ready to leave without her when Margrethe stepped forward and slipped Sibylle a small blue pill that she then had her chase with water. Within minutes Sibylle was more pliable and they were able to get her dressed.

Ragnar stood behind her, silent support for their insurmountable loss. Lager that stood next to Ragnar, offering her support to him. This was the second child he had to bury and she recalled all too familiar feelings from Gyda’s death. It never got easier.

Aaline and Ivar stood to the side and behind Ragnar with the rest of the brothers. Aaline met Torvi’s eyes and they shared a sad smile. She and Torvi shared similar feelings today. Either one held any love for Sigurd but Sibylle was their friend and it was hard watching her mourn her husband. They were young and seeing Sibylle like this reminded Aaline that it could’ve easily been any one of the brothers in that car.

She tightened her hold on Ivar and he squeezed her hand.

She let her eyes trail over the cemetery, stopping when she saw a tall man several feet away standing beneath an oak tree. He had his hands in his pockets and he was watching the proceedings. He was alone.

Aaline squeezed Ivar’s hand and tilted her head up, nudging his shoulder with her chin. He looked down at her and she darted her eyes over to where the man stood. Ivar followed her gaze and his eyes narrowed. He tilted his head back.

“I see him,” Björn whispered. Ivar didn’t take his eyes off the man but brought his head back down to Aaline.

“Who is that?” Aaline whispered. Ivar straightened his shoulders and they heard Björn whispering to Ragnar. Ivar cleared his throat.

“That’s Ecbert.” He said. The preacher finished his speech and they began to mill around. Torvi and Thora each took one of Sibylle’s arms and began helping her down the slope. Margrethe followed at a slower pace. Ubbe and Hvitserk stood huddled together, their eyes locked on Ragnar as he ambled over to Ecbert. Lagertha and Björn stood together silently watching Ragnar grow smaller.

Ivar turned to his wife and brought his hands up to her face. “He’s a brave man, attending the funeral alone.” He stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones.

She grabbed his wrists. “Ivar,” he cut her off, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was hard, all of his emotions filtering into her. Everything he kept bottled up inside. She opened her mouth and let him in, his tongue battling hers for dominance. Before she even had the chance to moan, he pulled back and dropped a kiss to her forehead.

“You look so beautiful, elskede.” He trailed his hands down her arms and locked their fingers together.

As Ragnar got closer, Ecbert finally spoke. “It was a lovely service.”

Ragnar offered a rueful smile and nodded. “Thank you.” He stopped just beside Ragnar and they observed the scene.

Lagertha and Björn stood together watching the two men speak. Hvitserk and Ubbe stood together, watching their wives disappear down the slope and Ragnar speak with Ecbert.

Aaline and Ivar were saying goodbye, his son kissing his wife quickly and with passion on the lips before releasing her. He heard Ecbert sigh and braced himself.

“I’d like to negotiate the release of Aelle.” Ragnar laughed with little humor and continued to watch his family. Ecbert waited patiently until Ragnar spoke.

“What release of Aelle?”

“Please, Ragnar, we both know you’re not stupid. Aelle, king of the Northumbria chapter of our organization. His son is too young to take over and I fear a coup should Aethelwulf take over too soon. The people aren’t ready for him to take over.”

Ragnar took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the emptying cemetery. “I know of which Aelle you’re speaking of. There is only one. I will not be releasing him.”

“Ragnar, we both know what Aelle did was unacceptable. He will be punished accordingly but let me punish him.”

“Do you think so little of me?”

Ecbert opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. His heart began to pound and he felt sweat settle on his upper lip. He stiffened his shoulders, trying to mask his discomfort.

“You would disrespect me so much as to take away my retribution?”

“Ragnar…”

“Aelle will die. He will die tonight for the crime of killing my son. There is nothing you or anyone else can do to stop it.” He began to walk away when Ecbert spoke again.

“One son dead does not an empire end. You have four other, strong, sons who can carry on your legacy. Ragnar,” Ecbert moved to stand beside him. “Let this be the end of war. Bury it with your son.”

Ragnar turned his head to look at Ecbert, his eyes were icy and cold. “Have you ever lost a child?” Ecbert didn’t answer and Ragnar nodded. “I have lost two. One child does not weigh more than another. I will not disrespect my son’s memory by having mercy on his murderer.”

Ragnar turned away and began to walk back towards his family. Ecbert’s voice froze him in his tracks. “It would be tragic, no? Should something happen to another son?” Ragnar’s eyes trailed over his sons as they stood scattered across the slope of the cemetery. Aaline stood with Ivar, their hands clasped together and whispering close.

“Or even a daughter?” Ragnar’s eyes flashed over to Aaline, her forehead pressed to Ivar’s chin, his arms wrapped around her as they slowly swayed. He looked over his shoulder at Ecbert.

“You would be wise to watch your words. Someone may think you’re making a threat.” He tossed a tight smile back at Ecbert before turning away. “Have a good day, Ecbert.”

Aaline stared down at her husband, his eyes half lidded and unfocused. His hands held her hips, his fingers flexing against the bony ridge as she circled her hips. He moaned and arched his neck, rocking his hips up into her.

She moaned, her walls fluttering around him and he did it again, stroking her inside. She dropped her head down, her fingers curling against his chest leaving half-moon marks in his skin.

Ivar snarled and sat up, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, scratching down his back, drawing blood. Ivar surged his hips up, his pelvic bone bumping deliciously against her clit. She cried out, arching her neck except his hand kept her in place. She rolled her hips forward looking for more friction.

Ivar growled and pushed her to lie flat on her back. Aaline moaned and stretched her arms over her head, gripping the edge of the mattress for support. Ivar stroked his hand down her front, palming a breast before settling his hand between her legs, circling his thumb around her clit. She moaned and closed her eyes.

“No.” Ivar fell over her, caging her in. She snapped her eyes open and met his, this pupils blown wide with lust. “Look at me.” He growled.

His hips slammed down into hers, setting a punishing rhythm. She tightened her grip on the mattress, pulling the sheet away in her fingers. Ivar brought his hand up from between them, her whine getting lost in the sound of his cock sliding inside her pussy.

He wrapped his fingers around her throat, cutting off her gasp of surprise. He groaned at the sudden heat that drenched him. He sped up, his hips slamming against hers, the bed frame squealing beneath them.

Aaline brought her hands to his face, bringing him up to her. She pressed her forehead to his, her body shuddering at the shock of pleasure coursing through her. He opened his eyes and kissed her, his tongue sinking deep. She groaned and slid her hand through his hair, tightening her fingers at his nape.

When he pulled back, they kept eye contact. He felt her pussy flutter around him and knew she was close. He buried his face in her neck and bit down on the muscle connecting her neck and shoulder. Aaline shuddered and came around his cock.

Ivar groaned and, a few thrusts later, followed her over the edge. He kept himself buried in her neck and between her thighs, catching his breath. Aaline stroked her hands through his hair and across his back, reveling in the skin contact.

“Ivar.” He lifted his head and looked down at her. There were tears in her eyes. He adjusted his elbows on either side of her face and stroked his thumbs across her cheeks. He waited.

“Don’t ever leave me.” She whispered. He searched her face, finding no fear and no sadness. Only tenderness. He nodded once and brought his lips down to hers, melting against her.

@dreamlesswonder @youbloodymadgenius @inforapound @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @jay-bel @feyrearcheron44 @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @kingniazx @revolution-starter

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sifshoney-notactive · 4 years

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Ragnarssons: saga vs show.

This is the first post of a serie, in which I will point the difference between each son of Ragnar, not only from a narrative point but also from a point of characterization, and their relationship with their parents and other people, and what makes them who they are.

Ivar The Boneless.

Birth and circumstances

In The Saga of Ragnar Lothbrok, Ivar The Boneless is the first of Aslaug and Ragnar's children. After Ragnar and Aslaug meet for the first time, and she comes to him answering his riddle ("to come to him neither undressed nor dressed, neither hungry nor full, neither alone nor yet in company") she tells him she will marry him under the condition that he completes his deeds in Sweden. Ragnar thus accomplishes his goals, and comes back to her seven months later. She finally agrees to marry him, but during the wedding night she tells him she won't sleep with him for three days, and that if he will still have his ways she will give birth to a "deformed son". That same night Ragnar does have his way, and Aslaug subsequently gives birth to Ivar, whose name will be the Boneless because "his legs were only made by cartilage". While Aslaug's warning did suggest she wanted to prevent this, the condition does not cause any disruption among his parents nor among his brothers (the already existing sons of Thora Town-Doe and his future ones), and it sharpens his mind to find alternatives to make up for his disability.

Ivar the Boneless is described as the handsomest of the Ragnarssons, and the wisest too, the last trait inherited by his mother Aslaug and her lineage (Sigurd's acquisition of wisdom in the Volsunga saga). He was a patient man with an inclination to be quiet, observant and reserved, which caused his enemies to be wary of him, considering him the most dangerous of all the sons of Ragnar. Ivarr's condition is speculated to be connected to his father Ragnar and his grandfather Sigurd's slayings of two dragons, the dragon of Thora Town-Doe and Fáfnir. The correlation between Ivar and the two dragons could be that they were serpentine creatures, no legs or wings to help them move, and his way of being patient and quiet and striking his enemies in a calculated way.

In the show Vikings, Ivar is the last and fourth son of Ragnar and Aslaug. After Aslaug and her children have to flee from Kattegat due to Jarl Borg's invasion, and the subsequent rescue by the hands of Ragnar and his former wife, Aslaug and Ragnar have a peaceful moment in the barn they are hiding in. There, Ragnar clearly wants to initiate sex, and Aslaug reveals later on that she told him that she would bear him a monster if he ever forced himself on her. In the show Ragnar does have his way, and Aslaug gets pregnant soon after. Her pregnancy causes her troubles with unusual pain, and she starts to worry about her prophecy, revealing to Siggy that "it wasn't her who spoke those words", and that she did not know who or what made her say them. Ivar's birth shows Aslaug in extreme pain, that causes her to faint for a few minutes before finally gathering strengths and releasing him into the world. Soon after we are shown Ivar's condition, that is just like in the sagas: his legs only constitute of cartilage. Unlike the Sagas, his condition is shown as almost a monstrous foreshadowing of his conduct and create clear disruptions among the family; Ragnar is intentioned to leave him to his destiny in the woods, which he even attempts to, and Aslaug intentioned of saving him and raising him taking in account his disability. While his brothers were either neutral or not disturbed of the situation at first, it then sparks disruptions among them too, sometimes even causing them to outright mock him or exclude him because of it.

Ivar is shown as a handsome young man with an unusual intelligence, which was (implied) inherited from his father. His intelligence though doesn't make up for his character, that is arrogant and quick tempered, extremely different from his saga counterpart. His brother's constant mocking and the knowledge of his father wanting to get rid of him hunted him, which resulted in his inclination to need other's approval and attention.

His condition had no correlation to any of his parents' deals, and is actually used in the narrative as a physical reflection of Ivar's monstrosity^. His already existing intelligence and inclinations are further enhanced by Floki who mentored him since a young age, after his accidental slaying of a child.

^ I feel the need to add that I do not condone this since it is an ableist connection, but it is indeed present in the show so I have to mention it.

We can argue that while in the saga Ivar is shown as a continuation of Ragnar's legacy, completing his deeds (the Hvitabø expedition which Ragnar never managed to complete) and reflecting Ragnar in many ways, but filling the gaps in his personality, becoming a person of his own, Ivar in the show, just like his brothers, is actually a part of Ragnar in a symbolic way, trying to prevail amongst his brothers (one of the many parts of Ragnar trying to prevail amongst the others).

Relationships

Father:

In The Saga of Ragnar Lothbrok we are shown that Ragnar tends to flee fairly often from home, even after his marriage with Aslaug, to engage in Viking activities. Despite this Ivar is shown to be a devoted son, who actually shares Ragnar's desire for exploration and adventure, without giving in to what are Ragnar's impatience and flaws.

In the show, Ragnar and Ivar's relationship is stern since he was just a child due to Ivar's condition, after his attempted abandonment and Aslaug's consequent rescue, Ragnar is left unsure on how to move when it comes to him, almost neglecting the child but for rare occasions. When Ragnar comes back after an absence of 10 years, he takes Ivar with him on his doomed journey, and that bonds them as Ivar is the last Ragnarsson to see Ragnar alive and the one to whom Ragnar gives the reins of his legacy.

Mother:

In the saga, Ivar and Aslaug's relationship is stated as a happy one, bonded not just by their family relation but by her lineage and prophecy. We also see that, after the death of the sons of Thora, Ivar and Aslaug discuss wether to avenge them, having different views on the matter; Aslaug is decided in avenging her beloved step sons, but Ivar is unsure about the success of such deal.

His opinion is changed afterwards by young Sigurd, whose stance of support for their mother and her praise for it, convinces his brothers and he himself to avenge Eirekr and Agnarr. This passage shows that the Ragnarssons strive to be praised by Aslaug, and Ivar is not an exception. After Ivar and his brothers go to England with the quest of avenging Ragnar, he stays in the lands he was given by King Aelle never coming back home.

In the show Ivar is clearly preferred amongst his brother, and Aslaug gives the majority of her care to him due to his special condition. She is clearly very protective and defensive of him, and he finds that she is the only one who ever truly loved him. When Ivar departs with Ragnar, Aslaug tries to stop him from going because she sees "it will end in disaster". Ivar doesn't listen, and a footage shows Aslaug "miscarrying", symbolically and magically bonded to Ivar, as in the same moment a storm rages and drowns the ship Ragnar and Ivar are in.

After her death, Ivar pledges to avenge her and remembers her often, mentioning their bond or her beauty.

Brothers:

Ivar in the saga is extremely respected by his brothers, who look up to him. We can see him lead during their battles, the first example of this was Hvitabø, where he suggested raiding there even if Ragnar had attempted and failed the same quest before. Even with this dominating stance, or his teasing ways of encouraging his brothers, their relationship is a happy one, and they all avoid to go against each other. Ivar gives great respect in return to their opinions, even young Sigurd who was only three years old when he started participating in battles.

In the show, Ivar is often mocked or excluded by his brothers, who do not appreciate the attention Aslaug gives to him. His condition is sometimes brought up by Sigurd in a mocking way, and he struggles with being respected until he shows his skills in battle and strategy on the field. His relationship is especially troubled with Sigurd, who feels neglected by Aslaug and blames Ivar for this. Conflicts amongst the Ragnarssons are not uncommon, and after Ragnar Lothbrok's death Ivar kills Sigurd after an argument, for which he does show remorse but not guilt.

Ways of ruling

In the saga, when Ivar is given lands by King Aelle he was considered a generous ruler who "gave money with both hands", and his wisdom was considered so great that everyone seeked him for advice. He became very popular amongst the people and was considered friend by everyone, even nobles of adjacent lands.

In the show, when Ivar becomes king, he creates a regime of control and fear, in which he was not very generous and often killed whoever went against his word. The people of Kattegat did not trust him as a ruler, and were forced to refer to him as if he was a God.

Sources:

The Saga of Ragnar Lothbrok

Þóra and Áslaug in Ragnars saga Lođbrokar : WOMEN, DRAGONS AND DESTINY

Vikings the tv show (2013)

Tags: @philomaela @edythofhastings

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plus-size-reader · 5 years

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The Deal

King Alfred x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1896 words

Warnings:none

Summary: Reader is the daughter of Ragnar. She goes to Wessex with Lagartha, Ubbe, Bjorn, and Torvi. Heahmund makes a deal with the the King to give them the lands they so desire...

———————————————————————————————————

When you first arrived at Wessex, you were looked upon as a savage and a murderer.

As far as any of the Christians were concerned, you were nothing more than an animal. Because of that idea, you were half tempted to prove them right, though you knew it wouldn't do any good.

If you stood any chance at being accepted in this place, you had to be on your best behavior.

It was bad enough that you were a viking in England...the last thing any of you needed was a murderous viking.

They already thought badly of you, so you needed to prove them wrong. It was imperative that you found a way to make this treaty work, or your entire family would be in danger.

You were the only living daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok, and that meant nothing here. However, where you'd come from, you were untouchable. You were looked upon as a princess and that attitude followed you everywhere you went.

You held your head high as you strolled from the cage you'd been wheeled in on into the large building that waited for you. It was a palace, sure, but meant nothing to you. No amount of gold or shining things could change your mind about this place...

It was stuffy and tense.

You hated every single thing about it.

Except for one crucial detail...

The young King Alfred.

He was an interesting character, who his people didn't take seriously. They looked at him as a child, and as you looked at him, you weren't surprised.

The man was by no means imposing, and you had no idea how he'd come into the throne in the first place. Not to mention that he was tiny, how was he meant to lead them?

"This is your King?" you asked, addressing Heahmund instead of the boy King. You weren't even going to speaking to him, for the understanding that he didn't speak your tongue.

The man only nodded, waiting for you to ask further questions, though no questions came.

You knew what it meant to be in the presence of a King, but as far as you were concerned, this small boy was nothing more than a joke.

Still, there was something about him that intrigued you. Something about him that was odd, and different from anything else you'd ever experienced. He was trained, like a wolf kept on a leash.

It was strange.

"Does he understand me?" you wondered, clarifying before you said something that was going to get you into trouble.

The time he shook his head. It was clear to you then that you could say whatever you pleased, as long as you did so in your native tongue.

And that made you happy. You had a million things on your mind that you had to get out about the strange man across from you. "He’s too frail and weak, I could snap him in half” you teased, earning a laugh from Bjorn behind you.

It was funny and he couldn’t blame you. In truth, he’d thought the same thing as soon as he saw the small man.

He was puny at best, but that didn’t change the fact that he currently held your fate in the palm of his hands.

Something was going to have to be done in order to secure your place here.

“That may be true, but he is the King” Ubbe spoke up, urging you to hold your tongue. King Alfred may not speak your language, but Heahmund did, and you couldn’t be sure that you could trust him quite yet.

The only people that you knew you could trust were your own. You were the enemy in a hostile land, and you weren’t going to put too much trust in the Christians.

That could only end badly in your experience. King Aelle had proven that quite well when he was alive.

“Not my King” you shot back, shutting your mouth after getting it out of your system. There was nothing you could say or do that would change the fact that you were now in Wessex.

You just had to do as you were told for the time being...as much as you hated it.

You all had been sitting around in the dungeon area for what seemed like hours until Heahmund and the tiny King could come to a decision about what to do with all of you and you had really had enough of it.

There was no reason to keep you all locked up like animals. If you wanted to kill someone, you would have done it when you walked in the door.

However as much as you hated the dungeon, as soon as they let you out, you were in for a surprise that was going to make this whole thing so much worse.

Heahmund had made a deal to get your brother’s the land that they were owed by King Ecbert.

All you had to do was be wed to the King.

It would create a connection between the viking and the people of Wessex, not to mention the possibility of you giving Alfred an heir.

It wasn’t ideal by any means for you but if it would help ensure a bond between your kind and the christians, Heahmund thought that it would be worth it. Besides, it wasn’t right for a woman of your age to be unmarried.

Something had to be done to mend the hole that had been torn between your two groups. As far as you could tell, this was how he was going to make good with them after commiting murder, of all things.

You could hardly believe it when they told you...

“You are just going to marry me off to him, like a thrall?” You barked, hardly believing what they were telling you. You could hardly breathe, and your blood was boiling.

Never in your life had you been so full of rage. Who did they think they were?

You were the only surviving daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok, and that meant something. In the eyes of the Gods, you were special, you weren’t to be traded like cattle to a man who couldn’t even defend his people.

It wasn’t right and if your father could see it, you would hate to see how he would react.

Ubbe had been expecting this, but the vision in his mind had nothing on the way you were really taking it. You were beyond angry with them, in a way that he’d never seen in his life.

“This is just what has to be done to ensure that we receive the lands that we are owed sister, nothing more than that,” he assured, earning a look of disgust and rage from you.

If he hadn’t known better, he would have feared what you would do to him.

You didn’t care about the lands around you. If you had your way, you would have returned to Kattegat with Ivar half way through the journey. If Ubbe was going to go through with this, he wasn’t the leader you wanted.

He wasn’t the King that you wanted to follow.

“I want to go home, take me back to Kattegat” you ordered, your arms folded across your chest like an angry child. It was quite the sight, and Ubbe had to actually stifle the urge to laugh at you.

You had always been so terribly dramatic, a trait that you received from your father, undoubtedly.

“I can’t do that Y/N, you know that” he started, prompting you to turn toward the door without a second thought. If Ubbe couldn’t help you, perhaps Bjorn could.

He had always been the most rational and protective over you, out of all your brothers. There was no way he was going to let something like this stand, especially not if you could convince him in the right way.

“Bjorn, you will never believe the deal that Ubbe has made with the christian king” you started, your mind swimming with the events of the past few minutes.

You couldn’t live here, among these christians another minute, led alone be their queen. You simply couldn’t do it.

Why had Odin forsaken you so? After everything you’d done in his honor throughout your life, he wasn’t going to leave to the wolves now, would he?

That would be the cruelest fate of all.

“I heard” he bellowed, keeping his back turned to you as you entered his room. He had been drinking weak christian wine since he heard of what was to happen, anticipating your visit.

As much as he hated it, there was little he could do to stop the arrangement that had already been made.

You would have to marry eventually, and while the oldest of your father’s son’s had always seen you married to a jarl, it would seem that wasn’t going to be the case anymore.

Instead, you would remain in Wessex on the arm of the boy king, as the queen of his kingdom and the overseer of the community of viking they would set up in westumbria.

Someone had to do it, and this was the sacrifice you would have to make.

“I won’t do it Bjorn! I’ll sooner slit his small throat in his sleep” you barked, not believing that he wasn’t going to do anything to help you. Bjorn was your only hope, and even he had turned his back on you.

That got a rise out of the man. Viking or not, you couldn’t threaten to murder a king around here and get away with it.

“Shut up! Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he yelled, turning around finally, his large hand falling over your mouth without a shred of hesitation.

It was one thing to leave you under the protection of the king, but he wasn’t going to leave you here in a cell.

The action shocked you, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

Bjorn was a large man with a large reputation, but he had another thing coming if he thought you weren’t going down without a fight.

“Anything is better than being married to him” you replied, that sassy smirk finding its way to your face. Either you didn’t understand the consiquences, or you didn’t care...either way, Bjorn shuddered to think of how you would react.

He was going to have to do something to get you to cooperate, or the deal would never go through.

“I’ll tell you what, go meet with the King, and if you don’t like him, I’ll take you back to Kattegat” he offered, knowing that he shouldn’t. He was only getting your hopes up for something he couldn’t provide but he had to do something.

He wouldn’t have you getting yourself killed.

You nodded, shocked at his sudden change of heart. Sure, you’d have to sit through a stupid evening all dressed up like a christian woman, listening to the boy king talk but if it would get you home, you’d sit through a hundred evenings.

You were so blinded by your happiness and relief that you didn’t stop to think about what would happen if Bjorn actually tried to take you back to Kattegat with Ivar ruling as king.

It didn’t matter.

All that mattered to you right now was getting tonight over with, so that you could finally go home.

#king alfred #alfred #vikings alfred #vikings #king alfred x ps reader #king alfred x plus size reader #alfred x ps reader #alfred x plus size reader #vikings alfred x ps reader #vikings alfred x plus size reader #vikings x reader #vikings x plus size reader #vikings x ps reader

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lisinfleur · 5 years

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Vikings - ep1 and 2 analysis

OOOOOOOK! New season, new episode, and here I am again - for probably the last time! - to rant about Vikings!

SPOILERS AHEAD! If you didn't see the last 2 episodes then... GO FUCKING SEE THEM!

Well... What to say, what to say... Let's play Jack the Ripper and slice it in parts... In Nightwish's words, "prepare to hate me..."

Lagertha - The Bitch Kill me. I don't care. I hate her! WHY THE FUCK DID SHE KILL ASLAUG FOR THE CROWN IF SHE-DIDN'T-FUCKING-WANT-THE-DAMN-CROWN? I just can't understand why ruining the fucking balance and hurt Ivar even more - which probably was the reason why this FUCKING MONSTER was created in the first place! - if she would just jump out of the boat in the end and retire like a good farmer. Fuck me, Lags! You were better when you were killing your husband to become an Earl! At least, she had a good reason to act like that and become someone great! Now? She's lost to me. Valhalla is the best retirement. And in this matter? I'm team Ivar. The only good thing about this situation was Björn earning the first of many kicks in his balls of these episodes: no, my dear, mommy won't be by your side now, little boy. FUCKING GROW UP AND... How did Ragnar say to Ubbe? Oh, yeah! BE A MAN! Speaking of the devil...

Ubbe - The Collared Wolf Fine. I thought I would hate him more these first two episodes, but I had a wrong impression of the teasers. At least, for now, I kinda can understand his point about Hvitserk - he's sick indeed, but this is another topic. What I can't understand is this sudden syndrome of momma's boy towards Lagertha. Fuck, my man, she fucking killed your mother, brother! You don't go there and build a damn dollhouse to play home with the woman who fucking killed your family! I mean... You cannot forgive your favorite brother for jumping a damn boat to side with another, but you can gods damn forget the woman who fucking placed an arrow into your mother's back? What the fuck, dude? Where are your priorities? Oh, yes... On your "wanna be Björn" kink... Got it. He became everything Torvi wanted in life: a copy of Björn who wants to raise her children, stay with her, and play home all the time, unlike the original one that was too busy traveling the world - and fucking princesses around - to really think his family was important enough for him to spend time home with it. And more than anything: a copy that she can control, cause it is the second time she just moves her chin up and he does what she wants. Yeah, Ubbe... You quite understood what being a good husband looks like (#no #HELLno!)... Let's just beg the gods that she doesn't go insane, cause good Ubbe cannot deal with insane people, right? Speaking of insanity...

Hvitserk - The Mad Mad Margreth... oops! In two words? POOR PUPPY! Hvitserk seems to be fully lost. And it was clear for me when he spoke about the men that burned Thora. He fully blamed them for her loss and seeing Björn releasing them alive - even banished the way he did - was too much for his heart. He was expecting Björn to allow him to kill them, or to kill them himself and maybe it would have solved Thora's topic in his mind - despite the fact that Ivar is the major responsible for her death. But the way he saw Whitehair and the others going out of those gates alive was too much... Hvitserk now doubts Björn's love for him, he can't understand Ubbe's behavior - and neither can I! I mean, you forgive our mother's murderer but not me??? - and he feels abandoned by both sides, alone. It seems for him that he will never be anything to anyone, not to Ivar - who saw him like a dog and humiliated him - nor to Ubbe - who feeds nothing but contempt for his insane brother the same way he fed contempt for the mad wife he left behind - nor to Björn - who ignored his pain and set free the men who killed the woman he loved. Hvitserk is alone, lost, forgotten, and going down the same hill of self-destruction Ragnar once went through. He's my biggest hope - despite knowing Marco said that Hvitserk "is fucked up" - that somehow this story will have a turn and we won't see a new Ragnar going down into drugs and ending up defeated, killing himself like Ragnar did (Cause tell me whatever you want! Ecbert would have never caught Ragnar and Aelle would have never killed him if it wasn't HIS choice). Now, let's move on to...

Björn - The Super-Wooper-Dooper-Ultra-MOMMA'S BOY!!! Where is Sigurd to spit on his face and call him Momma's Little Favorite? Someone call David and tell him we have one more scene for Sigurd's ghost to do! Not that I never saw this before - I saw, since the beginning! - that Björn was a momma's boy that can't face the world by himself or accept his mother did something that fucked up his brothers' lives and relationship and that she should pay for what she did. But I have to say few things in these episodes were more pleasurable for me than seeing Björn receiving multiple kicks in his damn overused balls! First of all, the amazing domino effect of Lagertha's actions in retiring causing the beautiful baby bear to be all alone at the throne. BEAUTIFUL. Then, Ubbe's carelessness. "Just makes me happy I'm not King." GO-FUCKING-ORGEOUS! The dead Seer (that somehow talks to the living and seems to be Björn's hallucination) even in his own mind, leaving him all alone to make his own decisions. AMAZING! Then Hvitserk's self-consciousness. "I think you're crazy but it doesn't matter for you anyway". I almost had an orgasm. Serious. You fucking wanted the crown. You gods damn fought for it! Now DO IT YOURSELF, LITTLE PRINCESS! I'm really rejoicing to see his arrogant ass being put on its place in this season! But I have to clap my hands and applaud at least one of his actions. I'm here to fuck up his reputation about his mistakes, so I must be here to put in the highlight when he does something good and to go against everyone and answer Harald's cry for help was something good and honored - despite my thoughts and feelings that this is a trap and Olaf didn't steal anything from anyone. As the cherry on top of his cake was Torvi's amazing answer to his credits for the children's raising. "And Ubbe!" I almost peed on my pants laughing! You never wanted to raise your children and be a father, now, admit your brother is occupying your place very well... Speaking of good things and girls...

Torvi - THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IN THESE EPISODES! ALL HAIL QUEEN TORVI, man! She fucking kicked ass in these episodes and I have to thank that girl for kicking the right balls I wanted to kick! While Gunnhild became the calm and cold ruler that's just sitting beside Björn giving him good advice and sewing for her child to come, Torvi fucking took that braid behind Ubbe's head as reins and is guiding the stallion! Hail, girl!! That chin-up of hers is amazing! I laugh out loud when Ubbe put his dick back into his pants and nods like a good dog just because she put her chin up with a mute "Solve it!". Man, the girl was amazing! I loved the few lines she had and I really want to see more of this in this season! Speaking of things I want to see...

Oleg - The... There is a name in human words for such a char? FUCK-ME! AND I MEAN IT! Guy is amazing! Guy-is-fucking-amazing! I just LOVED this man! He's A THOUSAND TIMES better than Headmund and I'm in love! What was that TRUCK that fucking rode over me?? Oleg is incredible! Crazy, like Ivar, but through a WHOLE different way! He takes the fights among brothers to a whole new level and I have to say I LOVED his interaction to Ivar so far. I'm eager for more! GIMME MORE OLEG IN THIS SHIT!! But speaking of Ivar...

I didn't forget to say goodbye to the crippled. What the fuck was Ivar in these episodes? I laughed SO HARD with him! He was amazing! His curiosity, his fear, his tears, his feelings! HIS LAUGHS!!! YAS!!! Fucking human again! Just like I love him! Human! Not a god, not a commander, A HUMAN! Who fears, who shits on his pants when suspended too high, who feels for a man who died saluting his name for loyalty. Who plays with a boy and sits to hear him playing the oud (was it an oud? Idk, but I bet that boy is Sigurd reincarnated just to make Ivar have to tolerate an oud beside him!). This was amazing and I fucking loved the interaction of Ivar with all the things that happened to him since he went through that road. Well, maybe Hvitserk will see this as well and the human-Ivar will attract him back to his side. Maybe not. Idk. I just know that...

Speaking of the whole season start: I'm happy! For the first time since this series entered the boys' phase, I'm happy to see a season starting and so many things that REALLY caught my attention. And I'm really full of hope that Hirst will keep up with this rhythm and offer us a good ending to something that was so enormously loved as Vikings has been since Ragnar. I loved these two episodes, I'm full of energy and all I can say now is...

GIMME MORE!

#lis talks #positive reviews #season 6 #SPOILERS

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jacksonroseroth · 5 years

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The Celtic Princess Chapter 1

A/N: Totally thought this was posted? Apparently not? XD Anyway, hope you guys like it.

Warnings: None

Words: 2,708

Moodboard made by me, none of the pictures are mine

Ivar remembered seeing Kiora when he was a child. Her father brought her along with her older brother, Tadgh, when they visited Kattegat, shortly before Ragnar sailed for Paris. Her father, King Esca, was a Celtic king that wanted the raiding to end in his land and proposed a treaty. Before an alliance could be formed, Ragnar disappeared after Paris, the last they heard about him was his death at the hands of King Aelle. Esca passed soon after Ragnar, leaving Tadhg as king and Kiora in his care.

While Ivar and Kiora were mere children and their interactions brief, as Ivar remembered it, he always found himself thinking about her from time to time, even once he became king himself and married Freydis. But with Fredyis’ future as queen and Ivar’s wife hung in the balance, his eye wandered. He didn't stop himself from looking at the other slaves and women that passed through the hall, even in her presence. The fights between husband and wife were routine at night, often ending with Ivar storming out, or crawling if he was so angry he didn't care about his braces, and the slaves picking up the shards of broken bowls and things that Freydis had thrown at him.

In the weeks that followed, King Tadhg sent a messenger to try to broker another alliance between the two young kings. 10 years since their first meeting, Ivar would once again come face to face with the Celtic princess.

As Kiora’s boat came to dock alongside her brother’s she looked over Kattegat and gave a small smirk. It looked bigger than it did when she was a child. There were more houses that lined the forest and the market seemed to have grown as well. Tadhg appeared at her side, holding out a hand to her. She turned to her brother and gave him a sweet smile, taking his hand and stepping off the boat. While Tadhg was married, his wife, Davan, fell into step behind the siblings as she was not yet crowned as queen. As such, Kiora held a higher position over her and walked beside Tadhg as they were escorted through the market and the town until they came to the hall, where they waited to be escorted inside.

Once the doors opened, Ivar couldn’t help the smile that jumped across his face when he saw Kiora. She was a rather gangly child, but he always loved her eyes; The way the green emeralds glittered and shined. Freydis glanced at her husband before giving the princess a brief glower as Tadhg bowed his head to Ivar and Freydis with respect. Kiora did the same if only to hide the smirk from seeing Ivar so happy to see her. She knew his eyes were on her the entire time because she couldn’t seem to look away from him either. Ivar had grown into quite a handsome man. She had heard that the crippled son of Ragnar Lothbrok now walked and from the braces on his legs and the crutch in his hand as he stood made that rumor quite clear.

“King Ivar,” Tadhg said, rather graciously. Ivar chuckled and made his way down from his throne, waving for the blonde woman next to him to remain seated. This woman glared at Kiora so fierce, she wondered if she had done something wrong simply by walking in. She’d never seen this woman before, not even a recollection from when she was last here. The hatred this woman seemed to have for her didn't stop her from accepting Ivar’s embrace and kiss as his lips brushed across her cheek.

“Tadhg. Kiora. It has been too long.” Ivar said. “I am glad to see you both are well. And I am sorry for the loss of your father, King Esca.”

Kiora bowed her head and said, “Thank you, my King.” She looked him over and couldn’t help but skew her lips in a smirk as she said, “Glad to see you’ve outgrown your little cart.”

Tadhg gave his sister a warning look, but Ivar simply chuckled and took her hand, bending to kiss it. “And you’ve not changed at all, Kiora.” He said. He looked down at her as he stood straight and said, “And now I’m the taller of us.”

Kiora chuckled as Ivar went back to his throne, casting a glance at Freydis. Kiora noticed the subtle change in his face, more so his eyes. They held the same distaste that Freydis held for Kiora. Motioning to her, Ivar said, rather unenthusiastically, “My wife. Freydis.”

Tadhg bowed his head to her, stepping up with his hand outstretched and said, “My Queen.”

Freydis gave him a small smile and allowed him to take her hand to kiss it before he stepped back beside Kiora. Ivar held out his hands, and in a booming voice, he said, “King Tadhg, Princess Kiora and their kin are welcome here! If any man holds resentment for these Celts, it shall be handled between myself and King Tadhg! There is to be no bloodshed while they are here!”

The hall roared to life, Tadhg and Kiora glancing around at the men and women that had gathered in the hall with them. Both Tadhg and Ivar knew there were at least a few men and families with grudges against the Celts from battles passed and while Tadhg ensured that none of those men accompanied them, he had no control over how the Vikings felt about their presence in Kattegat.

“If anything happens to the Celtic King or those in his company, consequences shall be given. Ragnar made peace with the Celts before. There were no such objections and there will be none now.” Ivar called, making the hall go silent. Kiora couldn’t keep the pride from her face as she watched this manhandle his people. She remembered Ragnar wielded the same power of presence and it was clear that his son inherited the same. When the people remained quiet, showing their silent obedience, Ivar waved them away as he motioned for Tadhg to come to him. Tadhg obeyed, stepping up and bending down so Ivar could say, quietly in his ear, “I should like you and your sister to join me for dinner tomorrow tonight.”

“With you and the Queen?” Tadhg asked, softly, casting a glance to Freydis as he straightened a little to face Ivar. Ivar didn’t even glance in her direction before shaking his head and saying, “No. Alone. I shall send a slave when you are ready.”

Tadhg crossed an arm over his chest and stepped back before turning to Kiora and giving her a look.

“What have I done?” She asked as she turned to follow him out of the hall.

“You must remember your place, Sister. Ivar has a wife. You are not children any longer.” Tadhg said. Kiora let out a soft scoff, rolling her eyes as she let the conversation drop for the time being.

The night went on, the feast was had and every Celt and Viking enjoyed in the festivities and each other; drinking, fighting and laughing. Kiora sat next to Tadhg, Davan beside her, while Freydis sat beside Ivar, the two kings next to each other. Their usual feasts took place in the hall, but for such an occasion, one both their fathers wanted to see happen, Ivar allowed Tadhg’s request to have it out among the people, complete with a roaring fire for their women to dance around. Soon enough, the women of Kattegat joined their Celt sisters, each chanting in their language to the gods.

Once the men joined, Davan excused herself from Kiora’s conversation and took her husband’s hand, leading him to the fire and beginning to dance. Ivar turned to Freydis and whispered something to her that made her glare at him, leaning away from him. Ivar sat back and turned to Kiora with a smile. He called to her, “Kiora. Come sit by me.”

Freydis gave a soft huff and stood, hurriedly making her way back to the hall. Kiora turned to him and smiled, switching seats. Ivar smirked and pushed a few curls behind her ear as she looked up at him.

“Tell me, Ivar.” Kiora started with a sweet smile. “When did you start walking?”

Ivar chuckled, as did she, and reached for his cup to take a sip. Balancing the cup on his knee he said, “Back in York. About a year ago, now.”

With a soft chuckle, Kiora said, “And I bet I can still outrun you.”

Ivar snickered and said, “On foot perhaps. But not on horseback, my sweet Kia.” Ivar brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek and smiled. They met more than once as children, as Esca sailed back to Kattegat, hoping to find Ragnar and continue their talk of an alliance, but when he found only Aslaug, Bjorn and the 4 little Ragnarssons, he was much dismayed. With permission from Aslaug, Esca stayed an extra day to let his men rest from a long trip. 5 years since they first met, Kiora only caught a passing glance at the youngest Lothbrok, as he slithered around with his brothers. A passing glance for her, but Ivar drank in every sight of her he could. She had grown from a small child of 8 to a young woman of 13. While Tadhg was the only other one to call her Kia, Ivar took a liking to the name, often using it to tease her as he and his brothers chased her down through the streets of Kattegat, Ivar’s cart rumbling as he shouted at her from it.

Kiora’s face softened a touch at the name and leaned closer to say, softly, “Tadhg hardly calls me that anymore. Only when he truly means it.” Ivar chuckled and said, “Then you are my Kia, and only mine.”

Kiora chuckled and shook her head. She knew the look in his eye, she’d seen it in many men back in Ireland. She looked at him and said, “Ivar, you have a wife. You are married. I belong to no one.”

Ivar shrugged and said, “Soon.” When Kiora tilted her head, giving him a questioning look, he simply chuckled and took another sip of his ale, watching his people and hers dance.

“How did you find the king?” Tadhg asked as he watched Kiora braid her hair. Kiora glanced at him with a small smile and said, “Very changed. He’s a man now. No longer the sniveling little boy that chased me from his cart.”

Tadhg chuckled at the memory and nodded in agreeance. “That he is.” Tadhg shifted and gave a soft sigh, waving one of his slaves over to pour him more ale. “I’ve heard rumors about him, Kia.”

Kiora paused her braiding for a moment, slightly taken aback by the nickname, and glanced at him as she tied her last braid off. “What have you heard?” She asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“I’ve heard his wife, Freydis has convinced him he’s a god,” Tadhg said. Kiora blinked and turned to her brother fully.

“A god,” Kiora repeated in shock. “Why would she do such a thing?”

Tadhg shrugged and stood. “I do not know. But it seems as though ever since he married Freydis, things have changed.” He said. Glancing over his shoulder at his sister, he added, “You are aware she had a child?”

“His child?” Kiora questioned at the addition. Tadhg smirked into his cup as he turned away. Kiora stood from the bench she sat on and said, “Was she pregnant before they married?”

“No. She was a slave before Ivar freed her. Apparently,” He cast a glance to the slave girl at his side, “According to the rumors, she made him believe with just his blood she could conceive a child, a god’s child.”

“He made no mention of a child, his or otherwise,” Kiora said. Tadhg turned back to her and set down his cup shaking his head. Bracing his hands on the table in front of him he said, “They found the child in the wild. Left for the wolves. They say it was disfigured.”

Kiora put a hand to her chest and gave a small sigh. “How did it get left in the wild?” She asked. When Tadhg didn't answer with the same quickness as he gave the others, Kiora tilted her head and stepped closer to him. “How, Tadhg? Why won’t you tell me?”

Tadhg looked at his sister and said, “Do you still want to love him?” Kiora straightened, surprised by the suggestion. But she couldn’t cover up her shock, as she stumbled over herself to say, “Who-What makes you think that? I’ve met him all but once.”

“Twice.” Tadhg corrected. Kiora shook her hand and waved her hand at him, dismissively, as she turned away from him. “In passing.” She said. “I never spoke to him.”

She stood by the fire for a moment, arms crossed over her chest before she turned to him and asked, “Is she going to get in the way of this alliance?”

“She shouldn’t. Ivar doesn’t want her anymore, yet he cannot bring himself to divorce her.” Tadhg said, scooping up his cup to drain it dry. Kiora gave a soft snort and said, “Why doesn’t he just kill her then?”

“You could be killed yourself for such talk, Sister,” Tadhg said, giving her a look. “She is still Queen.”

“Yes, Brother.” She said, giving him a look back. “And I am the sister of the King. You are my blood. She is not blood, nor is she royalty.”

“It would not matter. If you anger Ivar, I cannot go against him. We do not have our men here, Kiora. We cannot fight them.” Tadhg said. “Keep your temper long enough for us to make allies of these Vikings.”

“And if I cannot?” She questioned. Tadhg gave her a hard look and said, “Then you will join Father sooner than you think.”

Kiora straightened, indignant at his blunt response, but knew he was right. Tadhg let his gaze linger on his sister a little longer to make his point before he moved from his place and said, “Get some rest, Kiora. We’ve a long stay in Kattegat.”

As Tadhg moved past her, he stopped to give her forehead a soft kiss, then headed to his room where his wife lay sleeping. Kiora didn’t move from her spot, but as she straightened and raised her chin, she asked again, “How did the child get left in the wild, Tadhg?”

Tadhg stopped in the doorway, giving a soft sigh before he, as well, repeated, “Get some rest, Kia.”

“So. How is the king?” Freydis asked as she brushed out her hair. Ivar sighed from his seat on their bed as his braces were removed and said, “As I remember him. Ever his father.”

Freydis gave a soft ‘Hmm’ then said, “And the princess?” Ivar turned to her, his face scrunched up in annoyance.

“Why are you pestering me with your questions, Freydis?” He asked. She tossed her brush onto the table and said, “Am I not still Queen? Should I not know these visitors that come seeking an alliance with us?”

“Not for much longer, my love.” Ivar sneered before turning his back to her. “I will find another to warm my bed in your place.”

“I am your wife and your Queen, Ivar. You cannot-” Freydis’ words were cut off by Ivar flying across the bed and clawing at her dress to bring her down to his level, holding her by her throat.

“You were nothing before me!” He hissed at her. “I freed you. I am the reason you are even queen at all! Do not speak to me this way or you’ll lose your place sooner than you think!”

Ivar launched her across the room before he crawled under the furs and glared at her. “You may find another room to sleep in tonight. It has been a very long day. Get out of my sight.”

Rubbing her neck, Freydis picked herself up and slowly made her way out of the room, leaving Ivar by himself.

Hope you guys liked it! Feel free to drop a comment! If you want to be tagged in future fics/chapters, let me know! I’ll add you to the list!

@tephi101 @fucktgisshitok @titty-teetee @captstefanbrandt @ivarslittlebadgirl @hail-kattegat @badwolf-in-the-impala @tgrrose @irishhiggins @i-war-s-boner @readsalot73 @thisisparadisemylove @capitanostella @noaor @somethingdawn @lol-haha-joke @meganjudee @tinypuppysoul @lovelydreamer-2000 @littlepanda-love @moondustmemories @imconfused28 @ivaraddict @kinzykittty @filthy-lil-thing @unicornbaby741 @thedevil-of-monterrey @chinduda @nomzcandi @ever-darkening @darling-nymph @franzi201070 @colie87 @derzauberermitlilabademantel @winchesterwife27 @londongal2810 @youbelongeverywhere

#Vikings #Ivar Lothbrok #Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Freydis #Alex Høgh Andersen #History Vikings #Vikings FanFic #Vikings Fic #Ivar Fan Fic #Ivar Fic

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peaceisadirtyword · 5 years

Text

Vikings Rewritten {Prologue}

A/N: Hello! Okay first of all: this does not have a title because I don’t know what title to use :( I suck at this. So until I decide for a title (I accept ideas thank you😂) I will call it Vikings Rewritten because I'm the most original person in the whole world.

Second: This is a prologue, though it’s too long to be a prologue. I said I'd “rewrite” the series on my own way since season 5A but I wrote this (which is technically episode 20 from season 4B) as a prologue to introduce the reader (who was going to be an OC but I didn’t know what you preferred so... If you prefer I use my own OC I can change it!) and it probably is a bit boring... Just wanted to know if you liked the idea... If you decide this is the biggest shit you’ve ever read I won’t post it! But if you decide you love it I would be more than happy to share this with you!♥️

Third: I am following the original storyline here, the major changes will come later (I still don’t know what changes I will do but if you think there is something in the show that shouldn't be that way please message me! I will say more about this at the end because I don’t want to spoil you anything. Though y’all know what happens.

I don’t own any of the characters or the original plots and storylines, only the ones I created and the reader (though I don’t own the reader because that’s you and you’re free and belong to no one💖).

Warnings: Drama, a character’s death, Ivar’s anger issues, a bit of angst maybe. Some parts with a bit of fluff. It can be really bad written.

Words: 2915 too long to be a prologue I'm not good at this.

gif belongs to @jorindelle 💕

"Ivar, I understand you are angry, I know you want to avenge your father more than anything, but you have to be rational, listen to..."

"I already listened to them, Eyra, and I don't agree, we should kill Ecbert"

"Yes, but first listen to him"

"They are too soft" he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"They are your brothers, and you should consider their opinion"

He was sitting on one of the empty rooms she had found, after he came looking for her.

Eyra hadn't wanted to be on the same room with the brothers while they discussed Ecbert's fate, as she already knew how it would end.

Instead, she went to explore the place. She managed to save some books and some drawings from the fire, and hid them on a room to look at them more closely.

But Ivar's displeasure with his brothers' wishes prevented her from doing so.

"What do you think we should do?" he asked, shrugging with a scowl on his face. He obviously thought everyone was mistaken but him.

"I agree we should kill him" Eyra answered softly while touching one of the drawings "But you should listen to the offer he had for us, if he gives us land to settle here it can be really good for our people"

He scoffed. He had hoped at least she would be on his side.

"I don't want to stay here forever, Eyra"

"Neither do I, but there's people who do want to stay..."

Ivar rolled his eyes, but she wasn't on the mood to argue with him.

Those last days had been hard... After the Great Heathen Army defeated the saxons, killed Aelle and took king Ecbert captive it seemed like the revenge for Ragnar's death was almost finished.

And then Helga died. She had been like Eyra’s mother. She alongside Floki was the one who raised her, as if she was her own child.

She didn't deserve that death, she deserved to live more than anyone, to enjoy life and to be happy.

But the Gods took her, breaking Eyra’s heart. She had helped Floki to bury her, and mourned her death for days.

She had to move on though, there were other problems and decisions to make. And the Ragnarssons counted on her.

"I want to blood eagle Ecbert" Ivar bit his lip, his eyes darkening as he caressed the sharp edge of his dagger with his finger "To make him pay for giving my father away to be killed"

Eyra pressed her lips together. She agreed, Ecbert did deserve it, but...

"Ivar you could hurt yourself while doing it, you couldn't stand up..."

"I'm not a child, Eyra" he scoffed "Stop babying me, I'm not fragile"

"You're right, sorry" you sighed. Years and years worrying about him and she often forgot he had more strength than most of the vikings in all Scandinavia. And not only physical "I shouldn't have said that... Forgive me"

His expression softened, and he shook his head.

"It's okay, there's nothing to forgive"

Eyra got up from the chair she had been sitting on while looking at the drawings she had found, walking over to him.

Ivar welcomed her by leaving his dagger on the floor and letting her sit on his lap. His strong arms hugged her waist and she let herself relax while closing her eyes and leaning her head into his shoulder.

"You should tell your opinion to your brothers, Ivar, with respect and listening to their point of view too..." she could almost see him rolling his eyes again "I'm sure they'll consider your idea while taking a decision"

Of course there was a feast. The vikings had to throw a feast to celebrate everything, to the point Eyra started thinking they'd only go to war to have something to celebrate later.

It was almost as the ones in Kattegat; loud, full of food and music, some fights and a lot of drinking. Sigurd was playing his oud, Ivar was mocking everything Björn said, Ubbe was ignoring everyone and Hvitserk was eating as much food as he could. If only Helga was there too... She could say she was happy though.

Ecbert was dead; he killed himself after giving the lands of East Anglia to the Ragnarssons. Ivar wasn't really happy with that ending, but at least Ragnar was avenged.

Everything seemed to be going so well that she should have known. She should have known it was the beginning of a nightmare that would last for her entire life.

The Ragnarssons were her family. Eyra grew up with them, as if she was their little sister. Björn played with her when she was a child, she shared toys Floki made for you with Sigurd and Ivar, who were the closest in age to her, Ubbe was her first crush when she were eight and Hvitserk got angry every time someone made her cry.

And then some day, Ragnar came back to Kattegat, and she was angry at him. He left a wife and four kids and just disappeared. They needed him, they needed their father but he just abandoned them. Eyra even yelled at him once, called him coward and told him he didn't deserve his family. He had only smiled at the brave girl, with his eyes full of admiration, then he hugged her and told her how happy he was to see his sons had such a fierce and loyal friend by their side.

Surprisingly, Eyra cried a bit when she heard of his death.

Somehow, he managed to convince Ivar to go with him to England, and she couldn't remember any time when she had panicked as much as when Aslaug came to her home, crying desperately, asking for help to convince Ivar to stay.

He'll die, Eyra, I've seen it.

She thought he would listen to her. She was special to him, his best friend and the only one who could calm him down.

He didn't listen. He never did. But maybe it was a good thing, as when saying goodbye to him, in the middle of the boat full of people, with his family looking at her, she found the courage to kiss him for the first time. And then hugged him tightly, begging him to come back alive and to be safe.

He did came back, and when she saw him again, realizing he was alive... Eyra kissed him again so hard she almost made him fell to the fire. Ubbe laughed for hours because of that.

Aslaug was dead, Lagertha killed her and called herself queen of Kattegat. Ivar was angry, sad and frustrated. And she became his main support then; she taught him to be patient and to love someone, she inspired him in so many ways... He learnt a lot of things thanks to her, including the fact that he could definitely pleasure a woman, in more than one way.

But of course with the love came the jealousy, the possessiveness and the fights. Both of them were stubborn and whenever the two of them fought even Björn would leave the room.

Nevertheless, she was always there for him, and he was always there for her, and honestly that was all they needed.

Loving all the brothers as her own family made the fights unbearable to Eyra, though.

Everything was going too well, she thought, sighing and looking away from Ivar and Björn.

Björn wanted to go to the Mediterranean again, but Ivar didn't want to stay in England farming. He was in the mood to argue with someone as he turned to look at the rest of the army, who were feasting and cheering.

"Who can stand in our way now?" Ivar screamed, and they cheered again.

She bit her lip, looking at him. Ubbe frowned next to her, looking at his little brother.

"You cannot lead the army, Ivar"

"I don't want to, Ubbe" he used that condescending tone "All I'm saying is that, for those who are still brave enough to raid and find adventure then, I will lead them... You can put on an apron and settle down if you want to... And Eyra agrees with me"

You sighed, looking away.

"Everyone should be free of choosing what they want to do, Ivar, don't mock someone for wanting a quiet and peaceful life" she glared at him.

"I'm not mocking anyone!" He widened his eyes, raising his hands and shrugging "I just know that is not the viking way"

"But it will take a great man, Ivar" Hvitserk intervened "To stake a claim in here, to defend it"

Eyra nodded, agreeing with him, but Ivar ignored her.

"Ah, that does not sound like yourself, dear brother, the Hvitserk I know loves to raid, he's a real viking... What you just said, and what Eyra and Ubbe are saying is not the viking way"

"Your father was a farmer before being king, Ivar, don't forget that" she raised her eyebrow.

He looked at his lover, pressing his lips together, but didn't argue with her, turning around to look at the crowd again.

"So, who among you will follow me? Who will follow me into battle? For the love of fame and for the love of Odin, our All Father?" he screamed, smirking in victory when they cheered again.

Eyra was aware of the looks Sigurd had given to Ivar during his speech, and during the conversation with his brothers. She knew what was going to happen.

Everyone was used to their fights, but she couldn't help but tense up every time they started. Ivar almost did it once.

"We are the sons of Ragnar, we have to stick together"

Ivar smirked, and you knew it was on.

"Frankly, dear Sigurd, I don't care what you say" he tilted his head, and ignored the kick Eyra gave him on his leg and her glare "The truth is, I wouldn't even piss down your throat even if your lungs were on fire" he mocked while emptying the content of his cup on the floor. She gasped and frowned when some people laughed.

"Ivar" she hissed "Don't say that"

"Is the truth, Eyra" Ivar smirked "I couldn't care less for what he says"

"He is your brother" the girl narrowed your eyes.

She could be in love with Ivar, but Sigurd was like a brother to her, and she hated to see them fight.

"Well maybe that's because you're not really a man, are you, Boneless?" Sigurd replied, and she widened her eyes looking at him, feeling Ivar tense up next to her "You wouldn't make Eyra lie about it and she wouldn't have to find other men who can actually pleasure her if you were"

"Sigurd!" She screamed, her cheeks turning red in rage "Leave me out of this and don't spread lies about me!" She wanted to kill them both at that exact moment. Luckily her self-control was better than Ivar's "And please learn how to behave like brothers, both of you!"

Ivar was angry, it almost scared her when she saw that look.

"So" Björn decided to ignore them and talked to the rest of the men, who were looking at the brothers in amusement "Who's going to stay here and farm?"

Harald Finehair raised from his seat then, smiling to Björn.

"I would like to stay, but I have other plans" he raised his cup "Skål"

"Skål" everyone answered, and Eyra took a sip of her drink, to try and calm down with her heart beating faster and faster.

His brother Halfdan stood up to, revealing his wish of sailing with Björn to the Mediterranean. That seemed to relieve the eldest of the Ragnarssons, who took it as an excuse to leave the main table and join his new travel companion to hug him.

"Then it seems that the only thing that really kept the sons of Ragnar together was the death of their father"

"Poor Björn, it is you who doesn't want to keep the army together, it is you who want to go away to sunny places!" Ivar snapped, and she jumped, startled "Everyone else can follow me"

"Ivar" she said softly. She just wanted him to calm down, to relax...

But Sigurd wanted to keep pushing, and Eyra didn't have enough strength to stop the fight then.

"I don't want to follow you Ivar. You are crazy, you have the mind of a child!"

"And all you do is play music, Sigurd"

"Ubbe please" she begged, whispering "Please make them stop"

"They won't listen, Eyra" he squeezed her hand to calm her down "It's fine, calm down"

Calm down? How could she calm down? She could feel the anger coming out of Ivar's body. She could see it in the way he frowned, in how he clenched his jaw and his hands gripped the arms of the chair painfully tight .

"I'm just as much a son of Ragnar as you are" Sigurd shrugged, unbothered by Ivar's remark.

"I'm not so sure. As far as I remember Ragnar didn't play the oud... And he certainly didn't offer his arse to other men!"

"Ivar!" This time she jumped, knowing neither Ubbe or Hvitserk would do anything to stop them "Please, stop, you're brothers, don't do this"

"I can't believe you're with him, Eyra" Sigurd glared at you "He doesn't deserve you, he will get tired of you and then toss you aside like a toy, and you know that but still stay with him"

"Sigurd, please, don't do this... You're angering him, and both of you are saying nonsense because you've drank..."

"It's not nonsense, Eyra, and don't get involved, this does not concern you" Ivar glared at her, clenching his jaw. She was used to his rage, his bad mood and his yelling. But there was something different on his eyes.

"You make me laugh!" Sigurd mocked him, and Eyra closed her eyes, shaking her head. Next to her, Ubbe grabbed her arm softly, ready to shove Eyra away from the table in case the argument escalated "Just like you do when you crawl around like a baby"

"Sigurd, please don't say that" she wanted to cry then. They wouldn't listen to her, they could kill each other right there and no one could do nothing. Only watch how her own family fought, how they tried to humiliate each other in front of a whole army.

"It must be frustrating to be with a man who only crawls around and who cannot pleasure you either, Eyra" Sigurd was now smirking.

She wanted to scream in that moment, to say that Ivar could in fact pleasure her, in many ways, she wanted to hit both of them too, to make them see they were fighting their own blood...

"Shut your mouth!" Ivar yelled, and Eyra had never ever heard that tone on his voice. He hit the table too, and it made her jump.

"Enough!" Björn interrupted, with an annoyed voice "Listen to Eyra, she's the only rational person over there now"

"This has nothing to do with you!" Ivar yelled again. And he hit the table again. She didn't dare to even touch him, giving him some space so he could calm down.

"What's the matter, Ivar? You can't take it?" Sigurd kept pushing him. Surely he had to see his brother's rage, he could see he was losing control.

"Ubbe please" she muttered, her voice broken in panic.

"Ivar" Ubbe spoke softly to his little brother, smiling "Do not listen to him"

"Ivar look at me" she tried to do what she always did, to calm him down, to help him "Come on, don't listen, okay, just look at me"

Ivar did look at her, and he seemed to soften a bit before Sigurd decided to speak again.

"No, I guess it must be hard for you now that your mommy is dead, knowing she's the only one who ever really loved you"

That was it.

Everyone saw it in a slow motion. Eyra saw Ivar losing control completely. She saw his hand, reaching for the axe he kept next to his seat.

Ubbe saw it too.

"Ivar" he warned. Eyra stood up then, ready to take that axe from his hand. He wouldn't throw it, would he? No, he was his brother... "Ivar..." Ubbe's tone became urgent, and he shoved the girl away from the table when he understood what she was going to do. When he saw it coming and knew she couldn't stop it "Ivar!"

A scream. And then there was silence. Everyone looked at Sigurd as the axe hit him, as he looked at Ivar with hatred on his eyes and took the axe out of his body. Gripping the handle and walking over to Ivar.

"No" she muttered, not really knowing what she was doing as she tried to reach Ivar. She really was willing to cover Ivar when his brother intended to bury that axe on his head.

For most of the people watching she must look like a crazy woman.

But Sigurd didn't touch Ivar. He collapsed onto the floor, and then Eyra realized what had happened.

She couldn't remember much. Just crying hugging Sigurd's body, looking at Ivar's shocked and confused face.

Her family started to break apart then.

Tags: @mblaqgi @lol-haha-joke @tephi101 @alicedopey @hallowed-heathen @ivarslittlebadgirl @naaladareia @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @thisisparadisemylove @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @chimera4plums @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1

I hope I didn’t miss anyone! If you want to be tagged just message me💜 and if you don’t want to be tagged anymore message me too!

As I was saying: this is practically the original storyline; I wanted to keep Sigurd alive, but I needed to change his relationship with Ivar and that was a bit more difficult... I would love to keep Sigurd, but I couldn't 💔 I made the reader mourn him though(?).

Also with this I’m not implying I can write a better series than the actual writers of the series, not at all please... I just felt like changing the story on my own way and sharing it with all of you😘

Oh! this started as Ivar/Reader but it’s not necessarily just that! This can change during the story!☺️

I hope you like it, thank you for reading!💕

#vikings #vikings imagine #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #hvitserk #hvitserk imagine #ubbe #sigurd

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no-confidence-to-write · 5 years

Text

Killing Me Softly

trigger warning for mentions of rape

Someone Must get Hurt and it Won’t Be Me

Aethelswith

The smell of burning wood and bodies filled the air and sneaked through the cracks in their hiding place. All the screams still rang in her ears even though it had died down hours ago. Had it been hours? Minutes? Seconds? In the end, Aethelswith didn’t know who was alive, dead, taken, or tortured. Sooner or later, the Heathens would find her and the children who hid in the bell tower cupboard.

Aethelswith gathered the courage to speak putting on the facade of bravery to calm the children hiding with her.

“Bridget, Avery, Lorna, I need you to stay here. You must promise me not to leave until the Heathens are gone” she whispered to the frightened children.

“You're not going leave us right princess?” poor blind Beth pleaded. Visibly shaking with fear.

“ I have to go, they are looking for me and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’ll have to look after one another. Will you promise me that? “ Aethelswith asked.

“Of course princess, if any of those Heathens come near us I’ll protect Leorna and Beth” Peter replied cheerfully masking his own fear.

“More like I’ll be protecting you.” Leorna quipped back despite knowing her lame leg prevented her from running like the other children. Aethelswith knew that if the Heathens found these children they would waste no time in killing them. Twisting the ring off her ring she gave it to Peter.

“ After the Heathens leave you will need to head to York. Show this ring to Lord Benton and tell him what happened here. He will take care of you.” She told them trying to maintain a facade of strength. She began moving out of the tight cupboard space knowing she had to seek out the men that had ruin this safe haven: The Sons of Ragnar.

The stone corridors were eerily quiet as she snuck through the halls. It was as if she was entering a strange kind of purgatory as she descended through one of the stairwells. The silence wasn’t one of quiet reflection or prayer, it was the silence of death. The only thing she could hear was her own rapid heartbeat and the slow breathes she was taking in order to calm herself down. Maybe they already left… they took what they wanted and left. She told herself, naively trying to convince herself of the better outcome. Motionless she took a look out one of the narrow windows in the stairway. What she saw was out her nightmares.

Limp dead bodies cover the grounds as Heathens took no notice of them as if they were just dirt under their shoes. The remains of burning buildings lay in ruins while men took pleasure in the women they took alive. They looked as if it was just another grand day for them as if they didn’t take the lives of innocents. A voice spoke to in her head ‘This is your fault. If you weren’t here this wouldn’t have happened. You're the reason they’re dead’. She slowly sank from the window trying to swallow back the tears and the guilt. It was the time to hate, to have no mercy for any enemy, mourning would be for later, anger and revenge would fill her heart now.

Finally, Aethelswith strode softly through corridor trying to make it without being spotted. She could hear two voices coming closer. It was now or never. It would be better to surprise them than or for them to surprise her. Making a swift movement out of the dark she made her way towards the men, increasing the sounds of her steps. ‘Only a few feet from them now’ She thought as they suddenly became aware of her presence. A rough, calloused hand went grabbed her neck nearly crushing her neck.

“Er den lille sauen tapt?” the mocking voice crooned. He had unforgiving black eyes, queer tattoos covering his face, and her opinion, the most ridiculous haircut she has ever seen. Another hand started caressing her face with an almost tender touch but spoke with an equally dark voice.

“Nå bror, jeg vil ikke at du skal skade den vakre jenta for mye. Afterall, er hun ikke modig for å komme ut med å leke med oss?”. The one who spoke had cold ice blue eyes, similar facial tattoos, an attractive face, and a stupidly long brunette braid. She wasn’t going to even bother to translate what they had said to her. It was no doubt something derogatory that didn’t warrant a response. She straightened her back and spoke with all the confidence of a queen in their language.

“Jeg er prinsesse Aethelswith, og du vil bringe meg til å se ragnars sønner”. A rather surprised look came over the men as the hand slightly loosened around her neck. She continued speaking in their language.

“I am sure that the sons of Ragnar would like to see me unharmed and taken alive. As the granddaughter of King Ecbert, they would like me as a hostage.” slowly moving she carefully removed her earrings. They were gold with little blood red jewels in the center. It one of the few jewelry pieces she had taken with her, and now they were even more necessary to bargain for her safety.

“As payment you may have these.” putting out her hands with the earings, seeing if it would be enough to persuade them. The blonde eagerly took them, as the brunette began to speak again. Quickly, she began translating what he was saying, silently thanking God for the lessons in the heathens language that she had been taught growing up.

“Why would you come out now little Princess? Were getting tired hearing your Christians dying? Hmm? Surely, you know what the sons of Ragnar will do to you.” He questioned, almost, she thought, with some pity in his dark voice. “You should have stayed hidden,” he whispered as he took her arm not ungently but with urgency to take her away.

“If I am to die on this day, then I would like to it to be over with. I believe you call it fate…” She took a pause, speaking more to herself than to them. “ Perhaps it’s my fate to die today after all the suffering I caused. Perhaps God wants me with him Heaven.” she mused to herself ignoring the snort by the blonde man. Thinking back on how this happened. thinking why had God forsaken his people in their time of need. Thinking about how this might have been her fault in some way.

The paper faded in and out view before her. It was of no use concentrating on minuscule details of the report on the springtime plow in Streoneshalh. Aethelswith’s fingers gently tapped against the writing desk in the room she had been given at Streoneshalh. It had been about a year since Ragnar had died at the hands of King Aelle. Now, King Aelle’s limp body was lying in the forest where he had put Ragnar to death. It was only a matter of time before they came for Wessex despite the blind belief of her grandfather that the Sons of Ragnar wouldn’t attack.

Staring out the window, her blue eyes surveyed the peaceful happenings below. The everyday tasks went unencumbered in the courtyard. Townspeople and farmers went about their business in blissful ignorance. She briefly saw Joan and Sarah heading towards the barn. Joan easily recognizable with her bright red hair escaping through her veil while Sarah blonde braids wrapped around her head under her headscarf. Please God, do not let them come here, Aethelswith thought. After the kindness some of her family had shown Ivar, would he still want of all them dead? One side thought “Yes, of course. We sent his father to his death. They’re Vikings all they know how to do is rape, plunder, steal, and murder. Naively she believed he would come through. No, he made me a promise… doesn’t that count for something? she thought while tracing her lips.

It was one of the worst places to be on the defensive with a thick fog covering the area. Against the East Cliff, facing the North Sea, on the river Esk, and a two days ride York, an attack by the Heathens would be an easy win. Surely, it would be safe enough to protect her and the people living here, right? Why would her grandfather send her back here if it wasn’t safe? Surely, the Heathens would not know of or search for her. Unless King Aelle had told them before his death about sending his daughter Heluna there. Surely, the man wouldn’t have been such a coward as to bargain his own daughter away in exchange for his own life? Aethelswith knew he didn’t like her mother’ s affair with the priest Athelstan, or fraternizing with King Ecbert, or painting of the Holy Scriptures but surely he still loved his children. The brief interactions with King Aelle left her with mixed feelings for him despite being her grandfather. He held ridiculous notions towards female intelligence and their place in the world. As for Heluna, she had few interactions with her to form a definite opinion but seemed like the perfect Christian princess.

As if her worst fears were realized, the eery ringing of the church bells began to ring, but not for mass or to signal the hours. A cold sweat broke out among her skin as she dared to look back out the window. Black smokes mixed with the heavy fog, while the people scrambled to get away from the oncoming slaughter. The blaring sounds of foreign horns signaled the cold call of death.

No! No! Anyone but them. Anywhere but here! Please, God, do not abandon us!

A sickening feeling played within her mind. They were here for her or, at the very, least the demons would find her. Rooted to the ground she forced herself in a blind flurry out of her room. The corridors teemed with a flurry of rushing nuns and women running to escape the inevitable. Trying to move through panic to get somewhere, anywhere but here. Making her down the stairs through the suffocating amount of people an arm pulled through the crowd with a surprising amount of strength.

“ Aethelswith, come with me” an elderly voice called. It was Sister Edith, her confessor. She was one to the oldest member of the convent and it showed with a heavily wrinkled face and slightly bent back. She led Aethelswith away from the crowd with surprising speed and towards the ringing bell tower.

“Sister, we have to leave this place. It isn’t safe anymore!” Aethelswith stated. Wondering if the old lady had gone senile.

“ Oh, I know that, but you won’t be any safer out there. Out there you’ll be easy prey for those animals” she responded. As if it was the most natural conclusion. “Besides” she continued, “ I’ve been here for twenty-five years. I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

“ But, they’ll kill you” Aethelswith whispered, not understanding why Sister Edith wouldn’t save herself.

“Well, I think I’m ready to join God in his kingdom. I’m too old to escape now.” Sister Edith chuckled. “Now, go and hide and wait for them to leave. I have to go find Princess Heluna”. With a kiss on the cheek and a firm hug, Sister Edith shooed away to a safer place knowing that this would be their last goodbye alive.

Her heartbeat continued to hammer against her chest as she looked for a place to hide. How long would it take them to get there? 10 minutes? 5 minutes? 45 seconds? She was working with borrowed time and she knew it. Trying to reach higher ground, she ran through the various halls and staircases. She heard suddenly the quiet singing of a child with her hand tracing the wall. It was a sweet voice that belonged to a small girl, that could be no more than nine or ten.

“All glory, laud, and honour To Thee, Redeemer, King! To Whom the lips of children Made sweet Hosannas ring,”

Aethelswith quickly grabbed hold of the girl only to see that the girl was blind with a cloudy unnatural look. Was she left behind? Could she not keep up with the others? Why didn’t anyone help her?

“Hello. Who are you? My name is Bridget... Did Sister Mildred send you? “ She spoke without a worry in a dreamlike state. Her hands started feeling the clothing to see what she was wearing, trying to tell if she was friend or foe.

“ My name is Aethelswith, and we must hide quickly. The--” Aethelswith whispered quickly pulling her towards the belltower but she cut off by the girl.

“ Princess Aethelswith!” Bridget paused trying to make what Aethelswith suspected was an attempt at a curtsey. Bridget continued in an excited voice “ It is so wonderful to meet … I remember when you came by Tamworth in Merica… before the plague came and-” she was about to continue when a crash came from outside the building. She quickly ran to one of the windows to the sight of Hell. The heathens had crashed through the gate like wolves descending on a wounded deer. They were cutting down various townspeople that had tried to take refuge from the slaughter in town. More men took the nuns that had not managed to escape, defiling their holy virtue. She could picture it in her mind, the men burning the holy church, the rape of the holy women, them dragging her beaten body to the one who had promised her that no harm would come to her. He would mock her with his hauntingly beautiful blue eyes and taunt her naivety that she had entrusted him with such a promise.

She swiftly she turned from the horror before her and grabbed the hand of Bridget. Running as fast as she had ever done in entire life, all but dragging the girl to keep up with her. They needed to find somewhere to hide and fast. Before the heathens had made it to the upper levels. Begging God she silently prayed give us shelter, give us mercy, protect us, please merciful Lord.

“They’re here, aren’t they? The Heathens. I can’t hear the bells ringing anymore.” Bridget whimpered. Her face was contorted with fear, knowing that the heathens had invaded their home.

“Yes, they are here Bridget-” Aethelswith paused, the bells, the belltower… “ I know we can hide Bridget.” Running with renewed effort, they went through the small door that led to the belltower. Gripping each other hands they climbed the stairwell together. Spotting the small cupboard opening only to find two other faces peering back at her. Ignoring them she pushed Bridget in the cramped space and wiggled herself in as well.

It was dark in the cramped cupboard space but she could barely make out the other little faces with her. One that she recognized was the face of a reedy pox-marked, flaxen-haired boy. His name was Avery, an orphan from a village about 20 miles north of Streonshalh and usually worked in the barn. The pox had nearly wiped out the village a 5 years ago, but he had survived by the grace of God. The other face was of a pretty girl with a mop of brown curls. She had a crutch by her right leg. Aethelswith remembered a letter that she had been sent on the status orphanage she was the patronage of at Streonshalh. Lorna, age eleven, beamed crushed her leg in a house fire. They were able to save the girl but not her father.

They were looking at her for what to do, for her to step up a show no fear, but instead, she was saving herself and hiding. Inside she felt like a coward, but another side of her thought was it truly wrong to try to save herself?

“Now children, we will have to be very quiet and we might have to stay here for a long time. Do you think you can do that for me?” Aethelswith whispered, and was met several nodding heads. Trying to comfort the children around her, she wondered how long it be until the Heathens would stop destroying the sanctuary around her and figure out that Princess Heluna and her were here under their noses. Surely, it wouldn’t take Ivar long to figure out that the best to cripple and taunt her father was to use her. The comforting knowledge that her father loved her now made her sick. What type of sick torture would they use on her to get back at him? For the first time in her life, she feared Ivar the Boneless.

The tightening around her arm intensified as the tow Heathen lead her to their destination. The sounds of laughter and the smells of food and alcohol were becoming more apparent as they closed, but it couldn’t stop the sickeningly sweet smell of death from sneaking into her nostrils. Then, she saw it, the bodies of the dead piled outside the church’s main door. They were heaped like discarded garbage instead of human beings.

A black feeling crept up inside, she dug her fingernails into her skin. They aren’t human, these heathens, they are the vilest creatures of this Earth. These good Christian people had never done anything to warrant this defilement. This is my fault, she thought to herself

Staring at the bodies, she started searching for anyone she knew, praying that she didn’t know any of them. But then she saw Sister Edith. It was almost like she was sleeping, but the blood stains coming from her chest betrayed that thought. It can’t be her, she didn’t deserve this. Sharp breaths were coming in and out of her chest willing herself not to cry.

“What is the little christian going to cry” the blonde mocked cruelly. Black thoughts clouded her mind as she gave him a look that would scare the vilest demons in Hell

“ I promise you, you’ll never see me cry, not in your wildest dreams. If someone must get hurt it won’t be me.” she hissed.

“You sure about that,” he sang back, but before the blonde could do any more the brunette interceded,

“That’s enough brother. We made a promise. I intend to keep it.” He almost commanded as he looked back at her with what she thought might be the smallest bit of empathy. He opened the church doors to an array of tall brutes of heathen men some with her Sisters of Christ.

She straighten her posture to that of queen, fully intending to show no mercy, give no quarter, and make them pay. Her thoughts as she entered the place that used to be for God were now a place for vengeance. You’ll wish you never met me, never betrayed me, and never set a foot in this country. For what you did to these people, you’ll regret ever crossing me.

#King Harald Finehair #vikings imagine #Harald Finehair x Original Character

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we-are-only-halfway-home93 · 4 years

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Come and Lay the Roses 25- Shadow of the Evening Sun- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Ragnar makes a move on Aelle.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warnings: Arranged marriage, language, violence, torture, sex, mentions of sexual assault/rape.

Word Count: 3942

Ch. 24

AN: I’m so sorry for the wait. I had some family stuff come up and I’m getting ready to move and my school still doesn’t have a solid plan in place for the fall so I’ve had other things on my mind but I am here now and we have chapter 25 of Come and Lay the Roses. I wasn’t too terribly happy with how the end came out but it is what it is. Enjoy!

“Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell.”

~Walter Scott

“They’ve been attacking our docks regularly since Sigurd’s death. First they took Ritland then they took Nyland. Floki and Rollo are at Kattegat right now making sure it’s not overrun. Father,” Björn leaned forward setting his hands flat on Ragnar’s desk. “We need to make a move.”

Ivar tsked. “As much as I love disagreeing with Björn he’s right. We can’t just sit back and let the Saxon kings make fools of us.” Björn shot Ivar a scathing look but kept his mouth shut.

“Sigurd has just died. We haven’t even buried him yet and you want to talk about retribution? Priorities, brothers. I think you should reevaluate them.” Ubbe chimed from his position by the fire. Ivar snorted and shook his head.

“The longer we wait to retaliate the bolder they will become. First, our brother, then the docks. What’s next? A home invasion massacre? No thanks. We need to strike while the iron is hot.” Ivar insisted. Ubbe rolled his eyes and sat back, his melancholy mood thickening the air.

Hvitserk sat forward, silent until now. “We should kill one of their brothers. It’s only fair. That’s what they’ve taken from us.” Ivar shook his head and stood.

“We did that already, Hvitserk. Remember? Aethelwulf was what started this whole mess anyway.” He turned his back to the room and stared out the large picture window overlooking the back garden. He could see Aaline and Thora walking a shaky Sibylle around the grounds. They made it a point to get her outside at least once a day.

“No, if anything this started when you married Aaline.” Björn accused. Ivar whirled around to face his oldest brother whose face had turned a wicked shade of puce.

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean? You’re saying this is her fault?” Ivar exclaimed. He pointed a stiff finger at his brother and rounded the couch. Hvitserk stood up and pushed his hands against Ivar’s chest, stopping him. Ubbe stepped in front of Björn, a barrier if needed.

“No. You were out of control. Killing anyone who annoyed you or even got in your way. You married Aaline because it was the only way father could control you. Aelle and Ecbert formed an alliance that night and they’ve been working against us ever since. It’s your fault all this has started.” Ivar snorted and tried to move around Hvitserk but Ubbe was there, creating too much resistance.

“They were attacking us long before my marriage. Who’s to say they wouldn’t have done it anyway?” Ivar yelled.

A loud crash silenced the room. All four men turned to look at their father.

In an uncharacteristic display of emotion, Ragnar had swept the contents of his desk onto the floor. Several glass ornaments shattered and littered the hardwood. Papers floated serenely to the ground. Pens rolled softly across the floor and came to rest under the chairs in front of his desk.

Ragnar looked up. His fingers were steepled in front of him. He had been sitting in quiet contemplation, taking in all the arguments his sons presented. Once they began to turn on each other, he had had enough. He took a deep breath and pressed his hands to his desk, standing.

His sons backed up, distancing themselves from each other, creating space in the already cramped room.

“As compelling as all of your arguments are, only one thing matters. Retribution. Aelle needs to pay for what he has done to us.” He came out from behind his desk and crossed the room, taking Ivar’s place in front of the window.

“He needs to feel my pain. This is the second child I have lost. No parent should have to outlive their children. It is worse than death. Aelle needs to feel what he has done to me.” He turned and faced his sons. “To all of us.”

“Are we going to kill his son?” Hvitserk asked. Ragnar smiled and shook his head.

“No. I would not deprive a father of his children.” He looked at each of his sons, studying them. “But I will deprive a child of his father.” The brother’s exchanged apprehensive glances but remained silent. Ragnar had turned back to the window and settled his hands in his pockets.

“Do you remember the story of Jarl Borg?” Ragnar asked. He kept his back to his sons. Björn was the one to step forward.

“He was an ally. He betrayed you. Took Kattegat, tried to kill Aslaug and Hvitserk and Ubbe and Sigurd. Killed many of your men. Tried to kill you.” Ragnar nodded and Björn took this as encouragement to continue.

“You overtook him. Took back your land and your people. Captured him.” Björn spoke softly in the tense room. He could feel his brothers’ eyes on his back. He was the only one old enough to remember the events of that night. His brothers had all been too young. Ivar hadn’t even been born.

“What did I do to him, my son?” Ragnar drawled, his voice low. Björn glanced at Ubbe whose gaze was laser focused on their father.

It was moments like this where Björn was reminded of his father’s power. These tense, quiet moments where all Ragnar had to do was lower his voice and speak softly and the whole world would stop to listen.

“You blood eagled him.” Björn whispered. Ragnar nodded slowly.

“Yes.” Ragnar breathed. “A fitting punishment, don’t you think?”

“Sir, there is someone here who’d like an audience.” Ecbert looked up from his paper, cursing internally at the stupidity of his companion. Sigurd Lothbrok was dead in a drive-by shooting, his body undergoing an autopsy but Ecbert only needed one guess to figure out who was behind it.

He’d told Aelle to be patient. The fool just couldn’t do it.

“Tell them I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” He waved carelessly. He looked up when he didn’t hear the door close. His attendant was still standing in the doorway, his body tense with nerves. Ecbert sat back. “Well, what do they want?”

His attendant cleared his throat. “She says she has information about Ragnar Lothbrok that might interest you.” Ecbert arched a perfectly shaped brow before waving his hand forward.

“Send her in then.”

The woman who entered was tall and thin with flowing blonde hair that reached her waist. She carried herself with a dignity seen in the upper class but dressed in a way that implied she was more middle or lower class. Her hands were clasped in a loose knot in front of her and her face betrayed little. It was her eyes that stopped Ecbert short. Her eyes gave away her sanity or lack thereof.

“What can I do for you, Miss…” He tapered off, waiting for her to offer her name.

She didn’t.

“I know how you can stop Ragnar Lothbrok.” The confidence in her voice was astounding. Ecbert snorted and shook his head.

“Pray tell, how exactly can I stop Ragnar Lothbrok? He is already the richest man on this side of the country and he has powerful allies in all areas of the government. Tell me, what do you know that I do not that will help me get rid of Ragnar Lothbrok?”

If she heard the sarcasm and skepticism in his voice, she didn’t show it.

“His children are his weakness. He does everything for them and with them in mind. Get rid of the children and he’ll have nothing.” She did show emotion then. Ecbert laughed at her and she looked affronted.

“I am well aware of Ragnar’s attachment to his children. But I will not kill them. Not so soon after the death of their brother. Now please, William will show you out.”

As if called, the door opened and the attendant appeared, his arm outstretched behind him, waiting for the woman to leave. She made no move to do so.

“You don’t have to kill them all in one fell swoop. Just one at a time. As one falls, Ragnar will grow weaker with grief and the rest will be easy.” She insisted, a hint of desperation behind her words.

Ecbert stood, his anger pulsating through the room. “Do you take me for a fool? Hm? I know that Ragnar’s weakness is children. But I have enough respect for the man to let him grieve one son before depriving him of the next. Or are you just trying to get me killed? Killing them all at once would be worlds easier than one at a time. I’m more likely to survive that way.

“Now, you’ve said your piece. Be gone from my sight before I feel you’ve overstayed your welcome.” He looked towards William at the door who moved forward and took the woman by the arm. She jerked against him, causing them to stumble. She took the chance to pull herself from William’s grasp and slam her hands on Ecbert’s desk.

“You’re a coward.” She snarled. Ecbert reared back like he’d been slapped. Never had anyone, let alone a woman dared to speak so to his face.

“Madam, you have overstayed your welcome here. Be grateful that I do not strangle you here and now for your insolence. I have killed stronger men for less. Remove yourself from my sight.” He hissed.

“You’re afraid of the retribution that will rain down if you act now. That makes you a coward.”

“I would be an idiot not to fear Ragnar’s retribution. You must be desperate if you’ve come to me with so little. I’ll not ask again. Leave. Now.”

“Ivar is the problem.” She said with confidence she had no business feeling.

Ecbert sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Ivar has always been the problem. This is not news to me.” His voice was clipped and short.

The woman straightened and crossed her arms over her chest. “I know how to get rid of him.”

Ecbert opened his eyes and stared at the woman with trepidation. She continued. “Once Ivar falls, the rest will soon follow.” Ecbert shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was about to listen to her. He was either stupid or desperate. Maybe it was a little of both.

“What did you have in mind exactly?”

The grin that overtook her face was just this side of insane.

Aaline leaned against the door jamb, watching Ivar dress. It was late in the evening and he was preparing for his raid on Aelle.

He had spent the better part of the last two days holed up in his father’s office discussing what needed to be done to avenge Sigurd. She could see the lines of anger and grief in his face every night when he came to their bed. He struggled to keep his eyes open long enough to kiss her goodnight before he was passed out.

He was gone by the time she woke and she knew that he was busy plotting.

It seemed they had finally devised a plan.

“How long will you be?” She asked, feigning casualty.

Ivar stopped lacing his boots and glanced up at her.

Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was looking down at her feet.

She was just as exhausted as he was if not more so. She had come to their bed every night physically and emotionally drained. She had taken the lead in Sibylle’s care and had spent the last two days tending to her.

Making sure she ate, making sure she bathed, consoling her and helping Lagertha. Lagertha had taken it upon herself to plan the funeral. Sibylle was in no position to do so. She struggled daily to get out of bed and Torvi and Aaline had to drag her out of bed and to the back garden just to make sure she got some exercise.

She was in no place to plan her husband’s funeral.

Lagertha had planned a day long celebration of life with a massive feast. There would be wine, food, music, and dancing. Of course this would all take place after Sigurd’s funeral pyre. Sigurd’s body would be burned on a pyre that Ivar and his brother’s would build. Offerings and ornaments would be placed on the Pyre so that Sigurd would have things to take with him into Valhalla.

Ivar had the utmost faith in Lagertha, though he felt that the funeral should take place after their vengeance on Aelle.

He sat up and sighed.

“It is hard to say. Our timing depends on Aelle and what he’ll do.” She nodded and looked up, meeting his eyes with watery ones of her own.

He drew his eyebrows together and took a deep breath, letting the air fill his chest, feeling the strain in his lungs, before he exhaled. “Why are you crying?” His voice was soft in the space between them.

She laughed once and pressed her hand against her mouth, afraid it would turn into a sob if she continued. She shook her head, unable to look at him for fear of breaking down. He said her name and she sighed, resigned. “Because I am afraid.” She could not speak louder than a whisper for she knew her voice would break.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid you won’t return.”

Ivar stood up and approached her slowly. He stopped in front of her and, with tender hands, took her face between his palms. “Aaline…” He searched her eyes, looking for what, she didn’t know. He seemed to find it because the next minute his lips were on hers, hard.

She moaned and brought her hands up to his shoulders, clenching her fists in his shirt, pulling it tight. Ivar sucked in a sharp breath and pulled away, locking eyes with her again.

“I will never leave you.” He whispered against her parted lips. She sobbed once, tears streaming down her face, and pressed forward, molding herself to his body.

Ivar crouched low behind the bushes in Aelle’s backyard. His hips protested the position but he ignored them in favor of watching Aelle’s bedroom window. The light was still on. He cursed when Hvitserk came up behind him.

“Nothing yet?” Ivar glared at his brother before shaking his head and turning back to the window.

“What are they doing anyway? It’s after midnight.” Hvitserk looked at his wrist for a watch that he wasn’t wearing. “I bet they're getting freaky. You think Aelle’s wife still lets him stick it in her every night? Can he even find it? I mean, he’s so…”

“I know what you mean.” Ivar cut his brother off. “His wife is a night owl. She reads.” Hvitserk side eyed Ivar before snorting.

“If I was her, I wouldn’t let him anywhere near me. I bet it’s like a shriveled old pickle.” Ivar rolled his eyes as Hvitserk laughed at his brilliance.

“Tell me the plan again.” Ivar demanded. He needed to get Hvitserk back on track.

Hvitserk huffed but relented. “You and I watch the back and wait for the light to go out. When it does, we text Ubbe and Björn who will wait 20 minutes and then they’ll use the French doors on the side patio to enter through the kitchen.”

“Security cameras?” Ivar asked only half listening.

“Disabled. Björn’s got the jammer in the car. It’s good for ten miles.”

“Security system?”

“Ubbe called the company. Said that the area has been experiencing connection problems and that they’re working post haste but some systems may go off unexpectedly. He’s got the decoder in his bag.”

“Guard dogs?”

“Unconscious.”

Ivar looked over at Hvitserk who didn’t look at him. “I stole some of Margrethe’s Xanax and stuffed it in some ground beef. They’ll be out for hours.” Hvitserk elaborated.

Ivar snorted. “If they wake up.”

He waited only a few minutes before he spoke again. “What happens after 20 minutes?”

Hvitserk groaned and hung his head. “Must we go over this again? Björn made me recite it until I didn’t leave anything out.”

Ivar ignored him. “What happens after 20 minutes?” He spoke through clenched teeth.

“Björn and Ubbe enter through the French doors and disable the silent alarm. They have 30 seconds before it’s not silent anymore. If it goes off, we take off and hope they make it out. When it doesn’t go off, we wait for Ubbe’s text and we break in through the back door.

“We sneak upstairs, inject Aelle with a horse tranquilizer and haul him out of the house like used furniture.”

He turned to Ivar as if he was expecting some kind of commendation but Ivar just slapped his shoulder and pointed to the bedroom window. Hvitserk turned and saw that the light had gone out.

“Text Ubbe.” Ivar hissed.

Hvitserk rolled his eyes but did as he was told. Ivar kept his eyes on the window for any movement. He could feel Hvitserk shifting beside him. He was building up to something so he left his brother off the hook. “Was there something else, Hvitty?”

Hvitserk opened his mouth to answer but no words came out. Ivar turned to look at him and smirked. “Cat got your tongue?” Hvitserk narrowed his eyes and landed a solid punch to Ivar’s shoulder. Ivar chuckled and looked back at the bedroom window.

Hvitserk finally found his courage and asked, “So, you and Aaline, huh?”

Ivar slowly turned to face his brother who had no shame. “Well, she is my wife, Hvitserk. It comes with the territory.”

“No… well, yes, but… what I meant was…”

“I know what you meant. And yes, me and Aaline.”

Hvitserk grinned and he was trying so hard not to show his teeth that his face was tight with tension and his eyes nearly clenched shut.

“I knew it. It was only a matter of time. No one believed me. They all thought you would run her off. Said she was too smart for you but I knew you’d make it work. I knew it the minute I saw her. You can’t resist a challenge.”

Ivar had turned back to his brother and stared at him through narrowed eyes. “They all thought I’d run her off?”

“Well, yeah, but you didn’t.” Hvitserk stated like it was obvious.

“What else did they think?” Hvitserk looked over at Ivar and seemed to sense the danger he was in because he suddenly looked down at his nonexistent watch and hummed.

“Oh, look, it’s been 20 minutes.” Ivar watched Hvitserk stand and head towards the backdoor on tiptoes. He growled and followed swiftly behind.

They pressed back against the siding and waited.

Ivar glanced around the backyard, his adrenaline pumping. Hvitserk nudged him and jerked his head inside, indicating Ubbe’s signal. Ivar turned to the door and, with quick hands that won him Ragnar’s praise, he unlocked the door and shoved Hvitserk inside.

His brother cursed but otherwise did not react. Ubbe and Björn were in the kitchen.

“Everything’s set. We do this quick, we do this perfect. We’re in, we’re out. No one gets hurt.” Björn said.

“Except Aelle.” Hvitserk snorted. Ubbe slapped his arm and Hvitserk shrugged.

“Last bedroom on the left end of the hall.” Ivar said, leading the charge. The rest of his brothers followed behind on quiet feet. Ivar kept close to walls to limit the noise on the floorboards. As soon as he reached the landing, he took out his gun and attached his silencer. Björn glared as he passed him down the hall but Ivar ignored him. Hvitserk stopped beside him and took out the tranquilizers. He had three full syringes in his hand. Ivar gave him a look and he just shrugged.

“Better to be safe than sorry.” Ivar rolled his eyes and followed Ubbe.

Björn jerked his head towards the door and Ubbe nodded, wrapping his hand around the knob and turning. The door eked open and Ivar was the first inside.

He came around the left side of the bed, the side that Aelle’s wife, Ealhswith, slept. He watched as Ubbe and Björn came in, one standing at the foot of the bed and the other standing on Aelle’s side. Hvitserk was the last in.

He stepped up and knelt beside Aelle, removing the plastic covering from the first syringe. He smirked down at Aelle before plunging the needle into the side of his neck. “Sleep well, Aelle. It will be your last.”

As if his words were a trigger, Aelle’s eyes snapped open and his hand wrapped around Hvitserk’s throat.

Hvitserk spluttered and choked, his own hands coming up around Aelle’s wrist. Björn and Ubbe jumped forward, Ubbe helping Hvitserk tug against Aelle while Björn latched himself to Aelle’s back.

Aelle jerked forward, knocking the contents of his nightstand to the floor, waking his wife. She jerked up but was quickly met with the business end of Ivar’s gun. She didn’t even have time to scream before Ivar spoke.

“Scream and I’ll shoot you.” She snapped her jaw shut and stared at Ivar, tears streaming down her face. Ivar did not look away.

Aelle roared and yanked Hvitserk closer, spittle flying from his mouth. Hvitserk was turning a dangerous shade of purple.

“Hvitserk, the needles.” Björn grunted.

With help from Ubbe, Hvitserk plunged the two remaining syringes into Aelle’s neck. The Saxon flagged just a bit but his hold on Hvitserk didn’t lessen.

“Ivar! Help us!” Ubbe cried.

“Aelle.” Ivar called, his voice calm and soft.

The Saxon king turned his head and saw Ivar with his gun pointed at Ealhswith’s head. “Let him go or I’ll kill your wife.”

Aelle narrowed his eyes and pulled Hvitserk closer to him, his fingers flexing around his neck. Ivar watched the hand tighten around his brother’s throat before he turned cool, empty eyes to the weakened king. “You don’t believe me?”

With no preamble, Ivar fired a single shot between Ealhswith’s eyes.

The other men stopped, frozen as her body collapsed back onto the bed. A pool of blood leaked out onto the bed. A splatter pattern decorate the wall behind the headboard.

Aelle roared and released Hvitserk. He lunged toward the bed but Björn kept his hold tight and, with three horse tranquilizers in his system, Aelle was out in no time.

Hvitserk heaved and gasped in the corner, Ubbe hovering over him. Ivar glanced once to the body of Aelle’s wife before he stowed his gun.

“Ivar, we said…”

“I know what we said.” Ivar looked up at his oldest brother. Björn liked to stick to plans and it frustrated him when Ivar uphending these plans.

“We didn’t agree to kill his wife.” Björn hissed, his teeth clenched and his eyes hard.

“I know what we agreed but plans change. We didn’t plan on him waking up. We didn’t plan on him fighting as hard as he did. Frankly, I think this works in our favor.”

“A dead woman works in our favor?”

“Yes, he saw her die. He knows what we’re here for. He’ll beg for death in no time now that he knows what we’re willing to do.”

Ivar kept his gaze on Björn for a few more seconds before turning to Hvitserk who was standing now but with a ring of thick bruises already forming around his neck. “Alright, Hvitty?”

Hvitserk nodded, coughing, and clasped Ivar’s shoulder.

Ivar looked back at Björn before jerking his head towards Aelle’s body. “Let’s move. It’ll take time to drag him down the stairs and we don’t want anyone to see us leave.”

Tags: @dreamlesswonder @youbloodymadgenius @inforapound @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @jay-bel @reyrearcheron44 @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff

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triumphantreturnofpies-blog · 6 years

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Wayward Princess I

This is going off one of the ideas from the plot list @lisinfleur posted! I know you aren’t feeling very well Lis, and the idea inspired me. Adding in how much you like Sigurd, I’m hoping this will help make you feel a bit better! Also will be tagging a few others I think may be interested; if I am wrong and you don’t want me to do that, please let me know. And, uh, the reverse too I guess?

Title: Wayward Princess

Warnings: Profanity, talk of violence, talk of abuse, clumsiness, probably slow updates?

(Sigurd x FemChar Christian Princess) Synopsis: You’re the stepdaughter of a Christian king who literally fell into Viking’s hands.

You trudged through the forest, fury driving you farther from your family and your step-father’s army with every step. Already it seemed to have been hours, but your anger still screamed at you despite the burn in your legs. ‘Of course he wants to be rid of me, he bloody hates me, but a convent? “You’ll be safe there, it’ll be so much better for us all” --better my foot! What does he think, that the nuns can beat the sin of my birth from me? Like they didn’t try!’

So caught up were you in your seething, you missed the low river until you stepped in it. Water soaked into your shoes, and a string of curses left your mouth as you backed up quickly and tripped over a root. Your legs burned from walking so far, you were lost, your feet were soggy, and now you had a bruised ass to match your bruised dignity. Giving up, you let your head rest against the trunk of the offending tree and sigh.

“Maybe if I just stay here, a wolf will come along and eat me,” you mumbled. It was almost preferable at this point.

Not caring anymore, you closed your eyes and let yourself doze, only to be awoken some time later by heavy footsteps through the underbrush.

‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have wished for a wolf after all.’

As quickly as you could, trying to be quiet, you pulled yourself up into the tree you’d been resting against. One branch, two, three, up, up, up like when you’d play in the garden with your brothers, until you were ten feet up and pressed belly-first to a limb like a cat. All the while the sounds came closer, and you felt your breath catch at the flash of golden hair below you.

Not a wolf, a man. A handsome one at that, from what you could see. He bent down to wash his face in the river, showing off the length of his beautiful hair and the strange leather armor he wore.

‘Northman,’ you realized, heart hammering in your chest. You’d heard about King Aelle’s defeat and execution, of course you had, though no one would tell you how they’d killed him. A lot of good that did you, now one of them was here.

A heavy wind blew through the forest as the man below you stood, making the branch you were attached to groan from your weight.

Snap!

The scream is knocked out of you when you land on him, the branch stuck between your bodies and bruising between your breasts and down your torso.

The northman below you recovered quick, and the next thing you knew you were on your back at the water’s edge with an axe to your throat. Blue eyes glared down at you, one marked with the image of a serpent, and the memory of a conversation with a crippled prince. Talk of gods, and family, brothers....

The name spills off your tongue before you can stop it, making his pretty face twist further in confusion.

“Sigurd,” you gasp. “Sigurd snake-in-the-eye.”

You were alone in the woods with a son of Ragnar Lothbrok on top of you, with no help coming.‘Yeah,’ you thought, ‘the wolf may have been better.’

@honestsycrets @lol-haha-joke @akamaiden

#sigurd snake in the eye #sigurd x reader #vikings fanfic #my fics #sigurd lothbrok #sigurd ragnarsson

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 6 years

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Πειρασμός | Peirasmós

Chapter 6 : Dangerous Waters

A/N : Again, all the gifs belong to respective owners.

Erika woke up early, as usual, and made herself to the Great Hall where the thralls had already prepared the table for breakfast. Today, the forces that were being assembled by the brothers were finally arriving from all of Norway. Forces from Denmark, Sweden and Norway alike were filling the center and port of Kattegat. It was almost refreshing to see so many who admired Ragnar but it caused an uncertainty within her, seeing as it would mean she would have to have a face off with the people she cared for, presumably Aethelwulf and his sons. Hvitserk did not return home last night at all, she noticed that. She had her suspicions but she'll have to settle for an answer while they have breakfast. She was playing with the necklace sent my her brother as wedding gift, even though it won't be until they have defeated King Aelle. But then again, it would not take long to finish it as it wasn't going to be much on an event since most of the guests that day will consist of the Vikings. Her brother however, did promise to attend and she hoped he would not forget that.

It was her mother's, which was also her wedding gift by her sister. So it held a much more meaningful significance to her. Slowly, the others started to occupy the room and took their respective seats by the table. “I assume you had an eventful night last night, Hvitserk.” She decided to start off the awkward morning with an equally awkward conversation. Was she trying to embarrass him? Not really. They are, after all, ‘vikings’. Nothing bothers them. “He surely did.” Sigurd snickered and she had already confirmed her suspicions when the males of the family smirked. “How are you not jealous, Ubbe?” The raven haired princess found herself asking the elder brother in genuine curiosity. She still has a lot to learn on their tradition and ways.

“And please don't say it's because you're Vikings. You said it as if it's supposed to bring a whole new other meaning.” Before Ubbe could have the chance to speak his turn, she had already cut him off, giving off this brief statement. That was when he did not reply, affirming her thoughts of their answers for almost everything. Which was ‘it's because we're Vikings'. “Aren't you supposed to be territorial? How are you able to share so easily?” Ubbe shrugged, sipping his ale before answering. “He's my brother. I don't see why not. Both of them like each other-” Sigurd had thrown a piece of food towards Ubbe who was taken aback. He forgot the one asking was his future sister in law who was going to wed his youngest brother soon. That was when he decided to clamp his mouth shut. “Why were you asking, princess? Does this not exist in your culture as well? It's all good relations.” King Harald spoke, sitting just across her as he expressed his genuine curiosity.

“I would not ask if it was a normality, King Harald. I wouldn't know. Our traditions are very distinctive between each other. I'm not a Viking, so I don't share. We have strict laws in marriage. Only the King can have concubines. They don't have second wives and whatnot.” It was clear that she had given a sort of warning towards Hvitserk to stop messing around after their marriage. It was not an issue of jealousy but it was more on the issue of respect. She wasn't going to be made out a fool in this marriage. It was a sacred union and she intends to keep it mild and justifiable. “And what would you do if your husband are caught cheating?” Halfdan continued. Shrugging it off casually, the Russian born woman placed her spoon on the side after finishing her meal. “In our good faith, fidelity is the most admirable trait for a wife. So there's no real repercussions to the said punishments. But, there are always other ways to deliver it.” She grinned innocently which caused Hvitserk to shift uncomfortably in his seat as he struggled to finish his food, for the very first time.

While that caused a proud feeling to swell in her, she did not wish to condemn him into a loveless marriage. Despite being the cold hearted abrasive person she was, she was not that cruel. She believed in good will. Perhaps, one day, they will find it in both of them, to make good use of the marriage. Although she was not hopeful to receive a happy ending, a decent path could be more than enough to suffice. In attempts to push the awkwardness filling the air of the morning, she decided to tell them the plans for their upcoming battle. It would definitely pique their interest and successfully evade the situation earlier. “Bjorn, do you have a map on England?” It was important for them to have one if she was going to properly administer every tactical points. The Ironside nodded and gave her a scroll of which she identified to be the map. It wasn't that big enough for her to explain but it would suffice for now, until she presents them with the real one she had saved under her cabinets in her former room at Wessex.

Everyone stopped their eating and soon the table was cleansed off everything. What remained was the empty spot and space for her to draw the map. Erika spreads the map out that covers only a quarter of the table, with Bjorn's help. She was handed a quill by the thrall so she could draw on the map. It was the quill she has been using for years whenever she needed to make tactical strategies. For someone who grew up under the supervision of King Ecbert, it was not a surprise to see her so advanced towards such practice. She came from a broken kingdom that was struggling with power and the English King wanted her to be ready for everything, if it comes to the day she will return. Unfortunately for him, every single one of his teachings would end up being his upcoming demise. Circling the three capital cities of each three kingdoms in England; Northumbria, Wessex, and Mercia, she drew a line to connect all three.

“There are three kingdoms in England. We have two kings as of now. King Aelle of Northumbria and King Ecbert of Wessex and Mercia. Your main and primary target is King Aelle, who rules Northumbria. That is an easy pass, considering Northumbria is a- perhaps, the smallest kingdom against the the other two. It’s far from the sea too, which means you will be able to access the kingdom at its foot. The same way Ragnar did when he led the first raid there. Through the sea coastline. It will take them at least a day to finally find out what was occurring since they only send out patrolling guards twice every week. I'm sure that will somehow change now. I told you, your advantages. The sea, and the fact that you can outnumber his army easily since the alliance between both kings are no longer being held on. But, you are also at a disadvantage because King Aelle knows you're coming. He will be prepared. The patrolling guards will be sent out a lot more frequently than before, perhaps. The security will be heightened. But they are a small kingdom and there is only so much they can do. Your possible route to engage in the battle would be here— the field. This is where he would be waiting for you. It depends on either side on who gets there first. My conclusion is that you will be able to defeat King Aelle easily as he will not have soldiers fortifying anywhere, which means you can come from all corners. He doesn't have the number and due to his ignorance, he will underestimate you.”, she said, writing off Northumbria from the map.

It was until then, Ivar pointed at the other side of the kingdom to another one, Wessex. “What about the one here? We will defeat Northumbria, but what of Wessex?” The youngest Ragnarsson averted his steely cold blue eyes from the map and to the princess who was a bit taken aback by the question. “You want to take on Wessex as well? I thought your retribution is only with King Aelle?” The Russian questioned carefully, her eyes searching for everyone in the room to answer her question. She did not want Ivar to answer it. “Ivar said our father asked us to avenge him towards King Ecbert just as well. I can understand why. He did give up our father to King Aelle in the first place.” Ubbe pointed out, clearing his throat briefly as he explained. She was left battling with her own self. ‘Should I tell them. I should.. My brother asked me to aid their every need. But I would be betraying Aethelwulf..’ When she did not answer, Bjorn's roaring voice interrupted her own train of thoughts when he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Dove? What should we expect from King Ecbert.”

With her hand slightly trembling under the tremor of her own voice betraying her, she drew an x on the three main corners of Wessex. However, she stopped halfway and looked at them. “King Ecbert is the King of two kingdoms now. Wessex was already vast in the first place as an independent kingdom. So was Mercia, as it was the richest kingdom of all England. Now combined and joined together, there was no doubt it would have been more prosperous than before. Even Repton had quite the number of security,” she mumbled, biting her bottom lip as she tried to reason with them. “Is it because you're one of them? Huh, lille ild? You grew up with them. Of course you would try to save your Christian people-” Ivar had a tendency to rile her anger and temper, and now it was slowly fighting its way out. “Yes. Is that what you wanted to hear? Then I will say it. King Ecbert was my ward. He took me when no one else would, in fear that they would be killed off by the ones who sought out for my death. But I couldn't care less about the old man. Who I truly care about is his son, the commander of his army, Prince Aethelwulf. He raised me up and groomed me to be the person I am today, and I raised his sons. I would be facing them off in the battlefield, betraying him after he had nurtured me with every knowledge possible about the kingdom. So yes! I wouldn't want to have to tell his sons that I killed their father. Not physically, but mentally. Consider him dead the moment I stabbed his trust by betraying him and aiding his enemy. Using the armies we posted at their kingdom for you to go against him, instead of using them to honour our alliance and friendship!”

The sudden outburst from the petite foreigner had shocked everyone in the room. The rage she felt was almost sympathizing. Loyalty and fidelity seemed to be everything in her code of honour. And they could respect that, but at the end of the day, what they cared was how to crush their enemies. “We will use the army you have dispatched at all three kingdoms. We'll rendezvous with the vanguard in Repton. We will configure out the rest after we have breached every possible fort they have available.” Hearing the words coming out from Bjorn made Erika clench both her fists as she listened to every plan they had. It was as if nothing had changed. She can't wait to go back to England. But then she would be coming face to face with her friend that she had betrayed silently.

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“How do you do it so easily..”, she croaked out, her voice feeling a little bit off and scratchy after the mental outburst she had the moment she came back to her room. She was now leaning against the bench, staring out into the fjord when she saw Bjorn coming out from the Great Hall. He stopped on his tracks when he heard her voice. “It doesn't get easier. But you will have to make it get easier. If you don't, you'll lose. And in our world, if you lose, you're as good as dead. You didn't deserve to be put on such spot, but it was what must be done.” Sighing in the distance, she closed her eyes briefly before fluttering it back open. The night was hauntingly beautiful. The moon was gloating at her and she wanted to do nothing more than to strike it down. “I will be departing back to England tomorrow at first light. You will see me off, would you?” Bjorn gave her a nod before going off. Somehow, she sees him as an older brother figure. She felt familiar and similar to whatever he was doing. He reminds her a lot of Ragnar, despite not knowing so much about the latter. But she knew, she could always trust her instincts. Like he said, it won't get easier. She best make it get easier.

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She could not sleep a wink last night. Not after what Bjorn told her so late in the night. She kept thinking of his words since then. He was not wrong when he said she needed to get herself used to it, if she wants to survive in the new world. Despite looking hollow about it, she knew better than to display or showcase her state to anyone, especially them. It was a weakness. When she was overseeing the preparations done on the ship that was to take her back to Wessex, she was shortly joined by Hvitserk. It didn't seem like he was with any other company. “Here to bid me off? Aren't you an exemplary husband material, Hvitserk.” She chuckled as the raven haired princess teased the flaxen haired prince's presence. “I should be, shouldn't I? If any of us were going to set a good example.” The answer caught her off guard but nonetheless, the princess offered him a smile that was almost betraying herself.

The facade she was wearing over her other mask was devastatingly beautiful. “It's a hard choice you had to make.. But you made it nonetheless. I hope you see it as a strength rather than failure. To aid us in avenging our father despite getting nothing out of it— truly it's- we are thankful.” Weirdly enough, his tone indicated he was trying to ease her worries and guilt. “I follow whatever my King tells me to. I intend to be the most loyal subject and devoted to both my family and King. He's all I have left. It would be absurd for me to disappoint him.” She breathed in the cold air of the morning before turning to face the tall prince. “Thank you nonetheless, Hvitserk.” She tilted her head slightly in a sign of lowering her sight to respect him. As the others joined together at the port to bid her farewell into a fair journey, Hvitserk had a smile adorning his features until Ubbe noticed but did not say anything until she was well off from any sight. “I'll see you when you arrive in Northumbria, your Highnesses. I await your arrival.”

Ubbe nudged his younger brother who then was shaken by the sudden push. “Why you smiling about, brother? Did she say anything to you privately? And why did you come here earlier than any of us? Hoping to establish a standing point of relationship with your future wife?” The elder Ragnarsson kept bombarding him with questions he did not bother to answer and dismissed it off aimlessly. Hvitserk noticed he was absentmindedly liking when she calls or regards him using his name rather than using their abysmal nicknames. By the time he returned to the Great Hall, Ivar was spouting nonsense about Erika. Was it really nonsense if he had every right to be suspicious of her?

“I'm telling you. She might betray us the first chance she gets. Why did you send her off earlier?” An almost animalistic growl stretched out from his youngest brother's throat. It was so feral-like. “Because we need her to prepare the forces there. No one would follow us if she didn't have a say in it. She knows the kingdoms better than any one of us. It didn't seem like she could serve a better agenda and purpose being here, either. So I suggest you shut up, Ivar, for this is a serious matter and I do not need your useless temper tantrums to ruin what we have established with the Ruriks.” Bjorn warned, his striking blue eyes gleaming with annoyance as his tone dripped in venom. It was a caution for the cripple, not that he would care less. Ivar knew to get his way most of the time and that terrifies Hvitserk and the others utterly. Even when they would not show it.

It was more than clear to everyone, that Ivar held a particular distaste towards the Russian princess. Whether it was due to her personality and fiery self who never ceased to throw Ivar’s words back around to hit the owner, or her heritage of being a foreigner and a Christian, no one was really sure. But the fact that he was so adamant into convincing others to push her off the board as soon as possible was burdensome yet very suspicious. Hvitserk did not want anything to befall the cranky royal, as he found himself wanting to establish a better standing on their current status. He didn't like the idea of settling down so soon as he was still young , especially with someone he barely even knew. Unfortunately for the prince, he, more than anyone knew fully well that it would be suicide for him to cause any trouble in their matrimonial union. As long as she wields the upper hand in their organization, she was untouchable. And for him, as long as his wife could wield a knife properly, that was more than enough reasons not to test her. She bested him once during a sword fight. There was more to her than she would let others know and he was sure, that he was not the only one who finds her enigmatic.

But one thing is for sure. Erika was playing with dangerous waters, and she knows it. How well she cultivates her circle is entirely up to her, and the third eldest brother had his suspicion that she will turn them over without flinching. And the worst thing was, they might not realise what she's threading up her sleeves.

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#hvitserk #hvitserk x oc #vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar #bjorn ironside #ubbe #sigurd #peirasmós

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